


kiss with a fist

by spearbi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: AU typical violence, M/M, Slow Burn, Street Fight!au, i KNOW but dw we're getting a prequel with them after this bad boy, longfic, seungbin babey!, side woochan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearbi/pseuds/spearbi
Summary: Seungmin takes note of the faded bruises under Woojin’s eye, on his cheek. Yellow and purple and green, a week old. A little thrill runs through Seungmin at the thought of fighting SpearB himself, of exchanging blows like gifts.“Teach me to fight,” Seungmin blurts. “I want to fight SpearB andwin.”Woojin gives him a long, level look, and then laughs so hard that he chokes on his cigarette.( Changbin fights to win. Seungmin fights for something more. )





	1. love sticks; sweat drips

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a WIP 4ever so. here. some things i'd like 2 say:
> 
> \- changbin is NOT going to be a edgelord ok i dislike that trope but this is a fucking street fighting au bro! we gotta make things a little edgy bro! all of skz are a bit more jaded so you've been warned, actually
> 
> -!!!!!!!!!! this fic has lots of violence, coarse language, (not detailed ) past trauma and irresponsible drinking, so consider urselves Warned!! read safe pals. i love seungbin dearly + i hope you do, too. i'll add lil warnings for each chapter
> 
> \- kudos + comments are Very Motivating and i will rip out my own beating heart from my chest and give it to you if you validate me. thanks! i'm on twt @ MlR0H btw.

???  
JAN 23RD. 2021. LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Pink letters, thick and blocky: 

H-O-W . A-R-E. Y-O-U?

She’s learning how to write, now. Her M’s and W’s still get mixed up, but for a kindergartener she’s pretty darn good.

“I. L-O-V-E Y-O-U.” She says aloud, slowly enunciating the words as she shakily scrawls the letters across the page in purple. Her eyebrows furrow as she carefully colours in a heart with a fat red crayon, her chubby fingers careful and precise. 

Auntie is watching her from the couch, a book nestled in her lap. Every now and then, the girl can feel her stare boring into the back of her neck. She shivers. She doesn’t really like Auntie, but she’s very, _very_ scared of Uncle. Thankfully, he’s mostly at work, but when he’s around he can get really angry. 

(When that happens, she just crawls under her bed with Toto. Toto is big and soft and he can keep her safe.)

Brushing away her shiny black fringe with one hand, she uses the other to peel a sunflower off a sticker sheet and place it gently onto the front of the envelope. 

“Perfect!” She exclaims, excitement bubbling up in her chest at the thought of the letter being sent away. She scampers over to Auntie, a big grin on her face. “All done!” 

Auntie smiles, and it's as slippery and as smooth as silk in the wind. “Lovely, darling.”

“Can we send it to him now?” 

She passes the letter over to Auntie, who turns it over in her hands, expression contemplative. 

“Of course,” Auntie says softly, her mouth pulling tight at the corners. “I’ll take it to the post office tomorrow.” 

The girl tugs at one of her braids and chews on her bottom lip- a nervous tic. “Do you think he’ll write back?” 

Auntie pats the girl on her shoulder, featherlight, and nods. “I’m sure he will. He’s just a very busy man, you know. These things take time.” 

Comforted, the girl skips away, Toto in one hand and a fistful of crayons in the other. Auntie watches her go, the corners of her mouth drooping. “ _Very_ busy,” She repeats, and crumples the letter into a ball before shoving it in the pocket of her skirt. 

Satisfied, she picks up the book from her lap and cracks it open. 

SEUNGMIN  
JAN 24th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

There’s something about the smell of blood and sweat mixing together that makes Seungmin’s heart race. He’s afraid of a lot of things- the dark, heights, being forced to make casual conversation with people when shopping- but not of this. 

It’s counter-intuitive, he knows. Logically, he should be afraid of this dimly lit, underground bar. He should back away from the crude ring in the center, tear his eyes away from the men beating each other for money, call for help to split up the throng of cheering and screaming people. 

But he doesn’t. 

Because this shitty, blood-stained bar is where he feels most at home. 

The pair duking it out in the ring are fairly new. To Seungmin, this means that their faces are familiar but their names get lost somewhere in the back of his head.

Lots of people come to try their luck, confident that they’re strong enough and muscular enough to take home some cash.

They’re idiots. Strength isn’t everything. 

_You need to be dirty and willing to do anything to win_ , Seungmin thinks, stirring his drink idly in one hand. _You need to be absolutely desperate_.

He shifts in the barstool, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in an involuntary response to the roar of the crowd.. 

The taller man throws a wicked left hook that catches the shorter man right in the face. 

First blood. 

A voice speaks up from behind the counter. “Shorter one is new meat. Probably won’t last past tonight, but at least he bought a couple rounds before giving it a go.” 

The ice cubes in Seungmin’s beer clink against his front teeth when he tilts his glass back. “He definitely won’t. He looks too much like he has something to prove.” 

Seungmin turns around to face the owner of the bar. “Don’t you have glasses to be wiping, Innie?”

Jeongin sticks his tongue out at the taller man. “Shut up, dumbass, before I break one over your head.”

( Yang Jeongin, 21. Busan raised. A young, attractive man with a bright smile and kind eyes. He has a day job working at a flower shop, and he’s taking night classes at the local university for creative writing. Seungmin’s best friend. )

It would be difficult to tell that this lanky, youthful kid runs a street fighting den in the back room of his bar. 

_Looks are deceiving_. Seungmin smiles brightly and slides his glass over the shiny counter. “Hey bartender, can I get a refill?” Jeongin curses and catches the glass with fumbling hands, eyes narrowed. 

“You’re an asshole, Kim Seungmin. You’re lucky that you’re so good at managing this place, or I’d have kicked your sorry ass out long ago.” 

“If you had kicked me out this place wouldn’t be here. You’re hopeless when it comes to keeping things subtle.” 

“Maybe. If i were in jail I wouldn’t be forced to look at your face every day, though.” Jeongin slides the glass, now full, back over to him. A little bit of beer slops over the side and lands on the bar. 

Seungmin snickers and raises the glass in a loose toast. “Ouch, dude.” 

The shorter man goes down in a spray of blood and bruises, and the crowd pushes forward, a ball of noise and energy. 

Seungmin also has a day job, kind of. He’s interning at a law firm, and would probably be fired if his boss ever discovered that he’s using the information from that job to help run and manage a strictly illegal activity. This side job of his helps pay rent, though, so whatever. 

Jeongin wipes down the surface of the bar for what must be the fiftieth time, brows drawn. 

“Heard some interesting news. Apparently SpearB got kicked out of The Loft.” 

Seungmin perks up. “You’re kidding.” 

Jeongin shakes his head. “Nope. He got into some kind of fight with one of the owners and he’s not allowed back under any circumstances. Chances are he’ll be travelling around for a new place to haunt.” 

_Interesting_. Seungmin hums. “Looks like The Loft won’t be getting a cut of his Gauntlet winnings this year.”

Jeongin looks wickedly pleased. “I wonder how much revenue The Loft is going to lose from getting rid of their main attraction.”

SpearB is infamous for being the undefeated champion in what this corner of the world calls the Gauntlet: a bi-annual competition for Seoul’s best fighters. The winner takes home a grand prize. 

Last year, it was seventy thousand dollars, all cash. 

( What Seungmin wouldn’t do for that money. )

SpearB has been around long before Seungmin stumbled into this dirty underbelly of Seoul, has been infamous for longer than Seungmin can recall. 

The thing that makes him so interesting is that he’s _short_. Short for a street fighter, anyways, because in this game of fists, height is a pretty big advantage. 

It makes Seungmin rationalize that if man that short is incredible enough to be spun and woven right into an urban legend, then maybe he can become one too. 

( SpearB is beautiful- cold, but beautiful. Seungmin has always had a weak spot for men who move with the kind of grace that SpearB does. Seungmin doesn’t want to admit it, but this obsession is two parts competitive drive and one part attraction. 

_Like a middle school boy with a dumb crush_.)

“Maybe he’ll come here.” 

Jeongin laughs and shakes his head. “What, this dive? The day he sets foot in here is the day I finally learn how to teleport.” 

“It’s possible,” Seungmin argues, leaning in until all that lies between them is a scant few inches. 

“We’re among the top ten dens in this city. He’s not going to want to go to a super well known one- he’s fought everyone there. We’ve got new people here. Weirdos, freaks. New people with new tricks, new toys.” 

_Like me_ , are the unspoken words. They hang in the air, heavy and thick. 

Jeongin narrows his eyes and sighs. “Don’t go getting my hopes up, ‘Min. God knows we could use the extra publicity.” He runs his hands through his curly mop of black hair and looks at Seungmin appraisingly. 

“People have been talking about you, though. Baby-faced kid that fights like a dog. It helps that you’re not a hack job like most of these other guys, but they’re interested in your fighting technique, too.” 

Seungmin preens at the compliment. He’s been waiting a long time for this, waiting for years to fight. High school was spent trying to sneak into seedy bars for a glimpse of the ring, dipping his toes in the shallow end of the swimming pool. Most people let him in; they weren’t the type to look too carefully at an ID. 

It was there that he had met Kim Woojin.

( Kim Woojin, thirty. Seoul born and raised. professional martial artist and part time brawler. 

Top dog in the street fighting scene until SpearB had appeared out of nowhere, like a summer storm. ) 

It went like this:

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

SEUNGMIN  
OCTOBER 4th, 2018. BUSAN, SOUTH KOREA. 

“ _You’re the one who almost beat SpearB, right?” Seungmin says by way of greeting, and the older man startles, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. He’s handsome, in an unconventional kind of way_. 

_The bar is dingy and crowded. Clean ones usually didn’t entertain this kind of company. People are waiting with bated breath for tonight’s match- J.ONE is fighting a talented new greenie and It’s bound to be good_. 

_Any other night, Seungmin would be front row center, toes pressed up against the crudely drawn circle. But tonight is different._

“ _That’s pretty forward, don’t you think?” Woojin takes a drag of his cigarette, pushing smoke out his nose before continuing_. 

“ _But yeah. Almost being the key word. That kid… there’s a fire lit under his ass. He fights like a cornered animal_.” 

_Seungmin takes note of the faded bruises under Woojin’s eye, on his cheek. Yellow and purple and green, a week old.. A little thrill runs through Seungmin at the thought of fighting SpearB himself, of exchanging blows like gifts_. 

“ _Teach me to fight,” Seungmin blurts. “I want to fight SpearB and_ win.” 

_Woojin gives him a long, level look, and then laughs so hard that he chokes on his cigarette_. 

“ _You’re a stick, kid. I could probably snap you half like a twig. Come back when you’ve grown up and got some muscle on you, okay_?”

“ _I can do it,” Seungmin argues, blood boiling and curdling under his skin. “This is where I belong_.” 

_Woojin gives an exasperated sigh. “Kid, you’re still in high school. Come and ask again when you’re grown._ ” 

_Woojin probably wasn’t expecting him to ever come back a year and a half later, fifty pounds heavier and five inches taller. He definitely looked like he wasn’t expecting Seungmin to slip into the seat next to him at the same seedy bar and ask again_. 

_“Teach me to fight.”_

_This time, Woojin gives him an approving look. “Fine_.” 

_And all throughout college Seungmin fights. Woojin teaches him how to knock out a man three times his size, shows him the best way to throw a punch and build muscle and be able to stand on his feet even after being entirely beaten_.

 _Woojin patches up the bruises and sprains he gives Seungmin. They eat out together more often than not. Quietly, in the back of his head, Seungmin comes to call Woojin “brother”_. 

_And when he sees the scars on Seungmin’s back, he says nothing. All he does is pull Seungmin into a hug, silent and supportive. Seungmin is relieved_. 

_He doesn’t want pity_. 

Woojin has become something of an older brother to him these past few years, somebody steady he can lean on. Seungmin’s parents are distant- physically and emotionally. They live in California. 

Calling them parents is a bit of a stretch. Thinking of them opens up a hole in his chest sometimes, jagged and gaping. 

( _There’s something ugly and dark in the land of the sun._ ) 

Thanks to Woojin, Seungmin fights with a bastardized mishmash of kendo and judo, knows how to do taxes, and maybe even has a brother. 

Neither of them intended for their relationship to grow outside of mentor- student, but life is a strange thing that works in strange ways. 

Woojin and his boyfriend always, _always_ have Seungmin over for Chuseok. Woojin is there to help pick Seungmin up after knocking him flat on his back- Woojin is even there to watch Seungmin walk across the stage at his university graduation, and he’s still here, even after five years. 

Seungmin loves Woojin, plain and simple.

Woojin is convinced that Seungmin has what it takes to win. 

( _“You’re hungry enough for it,” He tells Seungmin. “Maybe too hungry. But you can do it._ ” )

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 24th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Now, in the bathroom of the bar, he changes out of his daywear and slips on a pair of loose sweatpants and a thin black tank top. Seungmin makes eye contact with his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, and pauses. He doesn’t quite recognize the person he sees, but he doesn’t dislike him either.

 _This is what you were meant to do_ , a little part of him murmurs, and Seungmin can’t help but agree. 

_This is what you need to do_. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, he makes his way out of the crowd and into the ring. A hush falls across the room and from where he stands, he can see Jeongin hop up on the bar to watch. 

A tall, burly man steps up to Seungmin, leering unpleasantly. “I’m going up against you?”

Seungmin makes a point to look around the ring. “We’ll, we’re the only people in the ring. Gold star for figuring that out.” 

Somebody in the crowd laughs, and Burly’s expression sours, his face flushing red. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, pretty boy. Wonder what it would look like wrapped around my-,”

Seungmin punches him squarely in the jaw, effectively shutting Burly up. The beefy man staggers backwards, eyes wide. “Oh, you’ll pay for that.”

“If you can even catch me,” Seungmin replies, and the dance begins. Burly is bigger than him, stronger than him, but he’s not _better_ than him, and that’s what counts. 

If Burly manages to land a hit to his head or get his arms around his waist, he’s done for. All Seungmin has to do is be quick. 

And quick he is. He moves like a tornado, quick and fast, spinning on his heels and ducking away. Compared to him, Burly looks like a old, lumbering oaf. 

Burly lets out bear-like roar of frustration as Seungmin whirls just out of reach of his punch. Momentum carries the larger man forwards, and Seungmin takes that split second of opportunity to hit him in the back with a _Yoko-geri_ \- a type of side kick that sends the larger man sprawling flat on his back. 

Before Burly can get up, Seungmin kicks him in the side twice and pulls his arms into a brutal hold. Burly makes a strange whining noise before tapping out twice, his fingers scrabbling at the hard floor of the bar. 

Seungmin smiles, all bloody teeth and bruised nose, and the people in the cramped room lose their minds. 

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━  
JEONGIN  
JANUARY 24th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

“Who’s that?” 

Jeongin tears his eyes away from the slaughter going on in front of his eyes. “The one getting his ass kicked or the one kicking it?” 

The man shrugs in his heat, features shadowed by the black hood of his sweater pulled over his head. 

“What do _you_ think?” 

Jeongin clucks his tongue. “Testy, aren’t you?” The man in black motions for a drink, and Jeongin slides him a cold one before giving the stranger the information he wants. 

“The guy is Kim Seungmin. Just started out last week- people are saying he’s going to be tough to beat in the Gauntlet.” 

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“I’d be surprised if you did. He’s only twenty-two.”

The man coughs on a sip of his beer, and Jeongin smirks. “That young?”

“Your type, huh?” Jeongin says impishly. “Like em willowy, fast, and pretty?” 

A scoff. “Don’t swing that way.”

The roar of the crowd interrupts them, and Jeongin turns just in time to see Seungmin flip the much larger man over his shoulder and slam him into unconsciousness. Eyes glittering, he laughs. “Your loss.”

Fingers clenched tight around his glass, the stranger watches Seungmin wipe away a smear of blood from his nose. 

“Guess so.”

**  
SEUNGMIN  
MARCH 10th, 2019. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA. 

_Seungmin slouches against Woojin, tears streaming silently down his face. Drinking was a bad idea._

_Woojin pulls him through the front door of his apartment and deposits him gently on his couch, brow creased. He looks anxious- and so does Chan, who appears over his shoulder, his leather jacket slung over one arm._

_It was such a bad idea, because instead of numbing the memories it just brings them into crystal clear focus- he’s a specimen under a microscope. It yawns above him, reflective and all-seeing._

_It terrifies him, so he shakes and bends, curling up into himself like a human-sized pill bug._

“ _Seungmin,” Woojin murmurs softly, exchanging a worried glance with Chan. “You need to tell us what’s going on._ ” 

_He can’t. He really can’t, so he just pulls himself into Woojin’s lap and cries. Woojin sighs and reaches down to card his fingers through Seungmin’s unruly mop of hair. Chan plops down on the space next to Seungmin, sandwiching him in the middle._

_“Seungminnie,” Chan says softly, softer than a man with his collection of scars should be able to speak, “It’s going to be okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s going to be okay.” He smooths a hand over the back of Seungmin’s dress shirt, and Seungmin sobs even harder, fisting his hands in Woojin’s flannel sweater._

_It’s not going to be okay. It’s not, because he fucked up. Fucked up so badly that he’s not sure he can ever make it right again._

 

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 25th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA. 

Seungmin rolls out of bed the next morning, muscles aching and four hundred dollars richer than he was the night before.

He slides out of bed and pads over to his closet, pressing absentmindedly at the bruises blossoming over his chest and sides. 

_Nothing a suit won’t cover_. 

Mrs. Juk is expecting him to come in to the office early today to help with a lawsuit, so Seungmin doesn’t have the time to go out for coffee with Jeongin. 

Instead, he grabs a granola bar and chews on it as he jumps around the living room, shimmying the stiff black dress pants up his legs. 

The phone rings and Seungmin answers, slightly out of breath. “Hello?”

Static, crackling over the line. And then: “ _Don’t enter The Gauntlet if you know what’s good for you_.” 

Click. The line goes dead. 

Seungmin freezes where he stands, mouth full of oats and chocolate. Death threats, this early on? When the Gauntlet is still two months away?

Not good. Seungmin’s fingers shake imperceptibly as he redials and hits call. This time, it’s not him answering.

“Yo.” 

Seungmin swallows. “Someone just phoned me and told me to stay away from The Gauntlet.”

( Chan, 29. Australian. Pretty boy and co-owner of District, a warehouse-turned fighting den that is second only to The Loft. One of Seungmin’s oldest and closest friends, and Woojin’s boyfriend of almost ten years. ) 

“What the fuck?” Chan grunts, his voice slurred and thick with sleep. Seungmin can hear sheets rustling. “Just now?”

“Yeah.”

Chan sighs. “That’s not good. If they have your number, they’ll have your address, too.” He pauses. “Seungmin, you can still back out. You’ve only been fighting for a few weeks. This kind of world… it changes you, you know. There’s still time.”

 _Time to what_? Seungmin thinks. _Time to go back to a nine-to-five job with the knowledge that tomorrow will be the same as yesterday was? Time to be scared and lonely and an easy target? Time to lose the chance to get back the life I should have had_?

Seungmin grips the phone tightly, his knuckles whitening. 

“This is what I’ve wanted since I was a kid Chan. It’s not glamorous and it’s not pretty, but it’s what I want more than anything. Fighting makes me feel more than I am. I want to _win_.” 

He has other reasons for winning, but he tucks those close to his chest and locks them away. There are things even his friends don’t need to know. 

Chan sighs, all white noise and static. “Woojin and I will do our best to have our people watch out for you but- you need to be _careful_ , Minnie. You’re not a kid anymore. People will hurt you.”

“I’m not that naïve,” Seungmin mumbles, and Chan snickers. 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

They agree to meet up at dinner, and Seungmin walks out the door for work a little more paranoid that usual. 

The streets of Seoul’s financial downtown bustle around him, a kaleidoscope of noise and light and sound. Seungmin checks his phone. _At least I won’t be late today._

He was lucky to land a position at Juk’s Law Offices almost immediately out of university; most of his fellow students were not as fortunate. They get a lot of high profile clients: actors, politics, celebrities, and the _really_ bad guys. Seungmin stays behind the scenes, mostly: digging up information and stitching together scenarios for Mrs. Juk. 

He steps inside the office building with a group of other similarly dressed people, shaking warmth back into his hands and fingers. 

“Seungmin!” 

( Lee Felix, 24. Potentially Australian. Easygoing, cheerful, and a disposition much too bright for the career path he’s chosen. Hard worker and Seungmin’s kinda-sorta friend.)

Felix trots up to him, an americano in each hand. Somehow, the redhead manages to playfully bump Seungmin’s shoulder without spilling the hot drinks all over the both of them.

“Isn’t the snow so pretty today? I thought some hot drinks might help fight the chill.” He leans in, smile wide.

“And I’m not just talking about the temperature outside. Apparently we’re getting Cuffs today.”

Cuffs is slang for their less _wholesome_ clients. Crooked politicians and famous people accused of murder, mostly. Juk’s Law Offices are the best in Seoul; naturally, their rates are sky high, so it’s high profile people who are able to afford their help. 

It’s fucked up, but Seungmin needed that law degree, needs this internship.

(Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Seungmin has been desperate ever since he turned eighteen.)

“Oh, thanks,” Seungmin says shyly, gratefully accepting the drink. “At least today won’t be boring, then.”

Felix lets out a happy hum in response, and the two navigate their way into the crowded elevator and up four floors to where Jisoo is waiting at the front desk. 

“Hey, Jisoo!” 

The secretary looks up and gives the pair a distracted but genuine smile before returning to her phone conversation.

“She’s so pretty,” Felix whines as they make their way to the little conference room. “I wish she was my girlfriend.” 

Seungmin snickers. “You know she has a girlfriend, right?” 

Felix sighs dramatically. “Now I do. Why does nobody update me on all the juicy office gossip?” 

“Because _you’re_ the one updating people on the office gossip. You’re worse than the elderly woman in the apartment across from me, and I’ve caught her with her ear pressed up against other people’s doors.” 

“I can’t argue with that,” Felix mutters. He throws a baleful look at Seungmin before opening the conference room door, his drink wobbling precariously in his other hand. 

Mrs. Juk isn’t in the main room; Seungmin guesses that she’s probably talking privately with a client in the smaller office adjacent to the main one. 

Seungmin plonks down into one of the seats with a sigh, wincing as the sides of the chair press uncomfortably against his bruised leg. 

Felix looks up over his laptop. “You okay?” 

Seungmin stiffens, his fingers curling into the stiff material of his pants. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just worked out a little too much yesterday.” 

“I never thought of you as the gym rat type, but all the more power to you, I guess. Just take it easy, yeah?” 

“There’s no taking it easy when it comes to getting swole,” Seungmin deadpans, and Felix laughs, bright and loud.

Felix is amicable and open. He’s a kind of miniature sun, pulling people into orbit around him with ease. Not for the first time, Seungmin contemplates befriending him, _really_ befriending him. 

( _Don’t drag normal people into this_ , Woojin had told him one late spring day, when they were both catching their breath after a particularly punishing sparring session. _If you do, they will change into somebody you can no longer recognize_. )

So, Seungmin’s not going to chance it. Instead, he just pulls out two granola bars out of his messenger bag and offers Felix one. They sit there in a companionable silence until the soft _click_ of a door opening alerts them to Mrs. Juk’s presence. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Mr. Kim.”

“Good morning,” they parrot back. Mrs. Juk steps up and drops a thick manila folder onto the table, her expression neutral. 

As always, her greying hair falls neatly around her face in a bob, and her makeup, while minimal, is neat. 

“Our client today is pressing charges for slander and blackmail. He won’t be coming in today, but we’ve made another appointment with him tomorrow to go over different plans of action. Today is just a prep day to get the two of you caught up.” 

Seungmin nods, curiosity piqued. He reaches out across the table for the file folder, only to have Felix smack his hand away and grab it first. 

Mrs. Juk snickers and shakes her head. “Very professional, you two.”

“Oh man,,” Felix breathes, eyes wide as he flips open the folder and begins to read. “That’s not good.”

Seungmin wrinkles his nose and settles for leaning over the back of Felix's’ chair, squinting down at the small, blocky font. 

It’s an interesting case, that’s for sure. The man’s name is Seo Changbin- it’s unfamiliar to Seungmin, but most of his clients names are- and he’s suing the owner of a popular downtown nightclub for blackmail and extortion. 

_The Loft_ , Seungmin thinks, tensing up a little. _It’s a small world- maybe if the owner gets sued, there’ll be no representatives of theirs at the Gauntlet_. 

“There’s not much information on here aside from the basics,” Felix notes. “Why is that?” 

Mrs. Juk sighs. “Our client would rather share the details with the two of you in person tomorrow. What you have in front of you is bare bones, yes, but it’s more than enough for you to draw up possible court scenarios for now.” 

“It’s enough,” Seungmin agrees, smirking as Felix shoots him a glare. _Suck up_ , the redhead mouths. He flinches when Seungmin reaches over to flick his knee. Mrs. Juk gives him a strange look but doesn’t ask any questions. It’s probably for the best. 

At a quarter to ten Mrs. Juk leaves to go meet up with a new client, reminding the two interns to lock the conference room behind them when they leave. Seungmin nods, sighs, and opens his laptop, dooming himself to another six hours of paperwork. 

The day crawls by, boring and stuffy and uneventful, with the only real highlight being Felix going out and getting the both of them disgusting fast food for lunch. 

Five-thirty hits, and Seungmin is out of there like a kid on the last day of school before summer starts. “Bye!” He shouts, and Felix jolts in his seat, eyes coming back into focus. 

“God, is it time already?” Felix sighs and closes his laptop. “Nice. Have a good night, yeah?” 

Seungmin shoots him a quick thumbs up before booking it down the hallway. “Oh, I will,” He mutters, shoving his laptop into his messenger bag. “I sure fucking will.” 

He’s in the middle of making a sandwich when his phone vibrates with a text notification. The toaster shrieks, letting him know that the bread is done. 

**woojin**  
[ 5:25pm ]

 _hey. you busy tonight?_  
**you**  
[ 5:26pm ]

_was just going to jeongin’s place_  
_why?_

 **woojin**  
[ 5:26 ]

 _can i phone you?_

Seungmin picks up on the first ring. “Hey,” he says breathlessly, shaking his fingers as the hot bread scalds his fingers. “What’s going on?”

Woojin speaks as though he’s a cat who’s just had its cream. “How do you feel about fighting again tonight?”

“Tonight?” Seungmin exclaims, throwing the toast onto the counter. “When? Where?” Woojin chuckles over the line, all static and tinny sound. 

“Easy, boy. Chan’s hosting a small contest at District tonight- winner takes home a cash prize of about a grand or so.” 

Dollar signs flash in front of Seungmin’s eyes. “Sounds good to me. What time do you want me over?” 

“In about an hour or so,” Woojin confirms. There’s a rustling at the end of the line, like the older man is eating something from a plastic bag. ‘We can still have dinner after, but hurry up- I want you to see who you’re going up against.” 

Seungmin leaps over his ratty couch and makes a beeline towards his bedroom door, toast forgotten. “I’ll be there.” 

District is as it always is- sleek, shiny, and expensive. Very few people would be able to peer past the glittery veneer and see through it to the darker, more dirty underbelly. Chan keeps his ring cleaner and fairer than most- but it’s still street fighting, no matter how hard one can try to dress it up. 

The club is familiar to Seungmin, comforting- in a way, he grew up here, sparring in one-on-one bouts with Woojin over and over again until the older man deemed him skilled enough to move on to the next thing. The smell of cedar, sweat, and tequila are all things that make Seungmin strangely nostalgic. 

In a way, District is home. Pushing through the throng of dancing bodies, Seungmin makes his way over to where Woojin stands by the bar. 

“Who am I going up against?” 

Woojin spins around his his seat, soda in hand. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t like the taste of it. “Nice to see you too, kid.” He flicks Seungmin lightly on the forehead with a soda-chilled finger. “Somebody from The Loft, actually. Chan knows him- used to go to the same university as him back in the day. He won’t kill you. Probably.” 

“That’s very reassuring to hear, thank you,” Seungmin says dryly. “Where is he?” 

Woojin sighs, eyes sweeping lazily over the dance floor. “Somewhere in there, probably. He likes to dance.” 

“Huh,” Seungmin mumbles, a little grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as the mental imagery of a buff man dancing to Kesha fills his head. 

“Chan’s downstairs setting everything up. You could go help him, if you want.” The way Woojin words the sentence makes it clear that it’s more of an order than it is a suggestion. Seungmin huffs and rolls his eyes before complying, making his way towards the STAFF door and trotting down the steps. The original staff room is long gone- instead, the showers and bathrooms have been gutted, and the wall between the break room and the bathroom taken down to further open up the space. In the centre there’s a large ring, shinier and more padded than most, with bare floodlights illuminating the circle. 

“Chan,” Seungmin calls out, jogging over to where the older man is grappling with a particularly screwed-in light bulb, “Need a hand?” 

Chan grins, all dimples, and hands the stubborn fixture over to Seungmin. “Did Woojin force you into servitude?” He asks, wiping a thin sheen of sweat off of his forehead, pushing his curls back. 

“That obvious?” Seungmin snickers, hissing a little as his fingers slip against the slick metal of the lamp. He gives it one more twist, and then the lightbulb pops out. “I can’t believe you’re asking _me_ to do the heavy lifting. I thought that was your area of expertise.” 

“Don’t get too full of yourself, squirt,” Chan warns, even though Seungmin is significantly taller than he, “Or I’m going to fight you myself. Hyunjin can wait until I’m done with you.” 

“Hyunjin?” Seungmin parrots, tilting his head back to watch Chan screw in a new lightbulb. “I’m fighting Hyunjin? The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever met him.” 

“You definitely haven’t. Hyunjin doesn’t run in any of the same circles you do.” Chan flashes him a teasing grin. “He’s classy.” Seungmin snorts. 

 

“You can’t be that classy if you fight for money.” 

Chan flicks on the lamp and lets out a small sigh of satisfaction as it buzzes to life. “Hyunjin is. You’ll see- you’re not going to have it easy tonight.” 

What is _that_ supposed to mean, Seungmin wants to ask, but Chan is already shooing him back upstairs to change out of his street clothes and get ready. Another bathroom, another fight, and Seungmin’s still not tired, not yet. 

_You’re desperate, aren’t you?_

Seungmin averts his gaze with the reflection in the mirror, and pulls off his sweatshirt. It’ll be easy money, tonight- Chan says that Hyunjin is classy, which means that he probably fights fair. Seungmin knows fair. He can do fair. The street clothes Seungmin shoves into one of the stalls; he doesn’t really think they’re going to get stolen. 

Woojin is waiting for him outside, stance casual and easy against the wall. “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says quietly, slowing his pace so that Woojin can push off the wall and walk down the stairs beside him. “As I’ll ever be.” Woojin puts a hand on his shoulder, solid and warm. “Chan told me about that phone call- let us know if it happens again, okay? We’ll take care of it.” 

_We’ll take care of it_ translates to _Chan’s subordinates will completely annihilate anybody who dares to lay a single finger on you_. It makes Seungmin wonder if Woojin thinks that Seungmin is still blissfully unaware of Chan’s secondary job. Live around people long enough, and you start to pick up on things. 

“I will,” Seungmin promises instead, vowing silently to never bring up the matter to Woojin or Chan again. It’s just baseless threats, after all- Seungmin would prefer to not have the death of a prankster on his hands. 

“Hyunjin is like you,” Woojin warns, hand hesitating on the door to the ring, “Which means that he’s fast, and he has technique. Look out for his legwork.” Seungmin nods, and Woojin pushes open the door. The room seems much smaller now that it’s filled with a crowd of people, all yelling and stomping the floor, bets placed and drinks in hand. 

The energy of a hundred people electrifies the space, fills Seungmin up with liquid adrenaline. His fingers tap his thighs as he moves towards the ring- a nervous tic. “Good luck,” Chan says, giving him a whack on the shoulder as Seungmin moves by, “You’ll probably need it.” 

_Someone who likes dancing to Kesha can’t be that dangerous, right?_

Wrong. Hyunjin is deadly. Seungmin freezes as the man clambers up over the rope and into the ring, his lean legs carrying him with a kind of predatory grace. Hyunjin is terrifyingly beautiful, all sharp lines and full lips and hooded eyes. The coy little smile the black-haired man gives him makes Seungmin freeze, makes his legs lock up and his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

He clambers up over the rope himself, legs wobbly, and stands slowly, meeting Hyunjin’s gaze carefully. The crowd fades into the background, the sphere of light cast by the floodlights and lamps solely illuminating the ring the two of them stand in. 

“Contestant Kim and Contestant Hwang,” Chan drawls over the roar of the crowd, “Shake hands!”

“I'm Hyunjin,” Hyunjin says, gripping Seungmin’s hand firmly and shaking it twice, “And you’re Seungmin. Chan talks about you a lot.” 

“Oh?” Seungmin manages, cursing his own inability to function around beautiful people. Hyunjin smiles, and for a moment his mask drops. The smile becomes soft, shy. “You seem like a nice person, Kim Seungmin.” 

Hyunjin drops Seungmin’s hand and rocks back on the balls of his feet, licking his lips a little. “Too bad I’m going to have to beat your ass.” 

_Fuck_ , is all Seungmin can think, and then Chan is shouting “ _Start!_ ” and Hyunjin is coming for him, fluid grace and coiled limbs. 

Seungmin only just manages to avoid the roundhouse kick that cuts towards his neck, throwing himself to the side as Hyunjin’s foot snaps against the empty air he’d just previously occupied. _Taekwondo_ , Seungmin notes, lowering himself into a defensive stance, fists raised, _He’s trained in taekwondo._

And he’s good, too- Seungmin finds himself on the defensive instead of the offence more and more, forced to spin away from Hyunjin’s stupidly long legs and knife-sharp movements. Hyunjin’s defence is tight and hard to break through, and before long Seungmin can feel irritation building up in him, slow and thick. 

Seungmin manages to plant a side kick into Hyunjin’s chest, causing him to double over, eyes wide. The crowd roars. Hyunjin rolls out of the way as Seungmin brings his foot down, hard. Seungmin hisses through his teeth as the other man grabs his foot and pulls him to the ground roughly, wincing as he lands on his elbow with his full weight. 

Hyunjin tries to pin him to the ground, arm twisted behind his back, but Seungmin slides out of it like a snake, kicking upwards, clipping the side of Hyunjin’s face. The taller man grunts and jumps backwards, rubbing his cheek. “Clip your fucking toes, dude.” 

“Clip your fingernails, then,” Seungmin retorts, pulling up his sleeve to showcase the red claw marks on the inside of his wrist. Hyunjin grins. 

The crowd jeers and yells as they circle each other warily, both men breathing heavily. Seungmin spots his opening and goes for it, aiming for Hyunjin’s solar plexus.

“You’re good,” Hyunjin laughs, whirling just out of reach of Seungmin’s punch, “But you’re not polished enough. Not for me, anyways.” 

Seungmin doesn’t see the front kick until it’s made contact with his chin, snapping his head upwards and sending him flying back into one of the pillars that make up the ring. Stars pop in front of Seungmin’s eyes, and for a moment he gasps like a fish out of water, the air pushed from his lungs. His mouth tastes coppery- he must have bit his tongue, and his head spins. 

First blood- it drips onto the mat, and the crowd screams. 

Slowly, he stands up, but Hyunjin is already there, fire flashing in his eyes, and then he brings his fist down onto Seungmin’s face and the stars are back. The stars are back, and they explode like fireworks behind Seungmin’s eyes until it all fades to a deep black. 

**

WOOJIN  
JANUARY 25th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Woojin is barely able to hold himself back from entering the ring to check on Seungmin as Chan counts back from five, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. 

“ _And the match goes to Hwang_!” 

The crowd explodes, and Woojin looks on dispassionately as the people around him exchange sweaty bills and coins, some with more sour expressions than others. Hyunjin is still kneeling over Seungmin, and as Woojin stands and begins to shove his way toward the front, he’s able to see that Hyunjin is checking out Seungmin’s jaw and head carefully, brow knitted. 

“ _He’s classy_ ,” Chan had told him, and Woojin had laughed. Seeing the man now, though, Woojin thinks he knows what Chan had meant. Somebody slams into his side, sending him staggering sideways, and Woojin bites back an annoyed curse.

Hey, watch where you’re going, dude.” 

The man says nothing, just leans in to stare up at the now-stirring Seungmin intently. His face is obscured by the hood of a large, black sweater, but Woojin catches a glimpse of pierced ears and calm, observant eyes. 

Woojin would know those eyes anywhere. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Woojin says conversationally. The man looks over at him, lip curled a little bit. “Is coming to your boyfriend’s club to watch a match illegal, now?”

Woojin bristles a little, aware of Chan’s gaze from across the ring. “I never said that, and you know what I mean. You never watch other fighters matches. Ever.” 

The man shrugs. “You can speculate all you want, Woojin.” With one last glance at Seungmin and Hyunjin, he makes his way back into the stream of people exiting the room, blending in easily. 

“You stay away from my kid!” Woojin shouts after him, rubbing his shoulder with a scowl. _What an asshole_. Chan peers down over the edge of the ring at him, eyes wide. “Who was that?” 

“Nobody important,” Woojin replies easily, reaching up to rub his thumb over his boyfriend’s cheek affectionately. “Let’s go get Seungmin cleaned up, okay? We still have dinner plans.” 

“Kid’s gonna have a hell of a shiner tomorrow,” Chan says proudly. “Hyunjin was really forced to go all out.”

Woojin shakes his head. “We’re never having children.” 

Chan snickers. “Yeah, we are.” 

Hyunjin pops his head over the side of the ring as well, eyes wide. “Hey, do you guys have tissues? Seungmin’s nose is bleeding.” 

“Not on _my_ fucking ring!” Chan squawks, and Woojin laughs, simultaneously exasperated and endeared. 

**  
SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 25th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

“No, you’re seriously good,” Hyunjin mumbles thickly around a mouthful of ssam, “If I hadn’t known so much about you from Chan, I’d have thought that you’d been doing this for years.” 

“Seungmin is going to become the greatest Pokémon trainer,” Chan says seriously, reaching across the grill to snag a shred of beef. “He’s going to beat the legendary gym master SpearB.” Woojin kicks Chan’s shin under the table, causing the shorter man to yelp. 

They’re at a restaurant just across from the club, where the owners are familiar with the steady stream of brawlers. Chan had decided against taking a visibly beat-up Seungmin anywhere swankier. 

Seungmin wrinkles his throbbing nose at that, picking at his jajangmyeon listlessly. For obvious reasons, he doesn’t have much of an appetite right now. “I don’t feel like I can, honestly- I just got my ass kicked.” 

Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling up into little crescent moons. 

_He’s so pretty, it should be a crime._

“This is what, your first loss out of twenty? That’s pretty fucking incredible, you know. Don’t sell yourself so short.” 

“Thanks,” Seungmin admits, taking another drink of his soju. “You’re really talented, too- how long have you been doing taekwondo? That round kick was something else.” Hyunjin brightens at that, all shiny eyes and straight shoulders, and Seungmin thinks that maybe he’s found a new friend in the most unlikely of ways. 

“Oh would you look at that- they’re _friends_ now.” Chan cries, wiping away fake tears with the back of his hand. Hyunjin chucks a wad of rice at his face, and Seungmin snickers as Chan sputters in indignation. 

This isn’t forever- it can’t be forever, not with what Seungmin’s working towards, but something in the pit of his stomach glows warm and happy as he watches the three people around him bicker at laugh. The sting of losing is still present, as is the pain, but it’s tempered by the alcohol and atmosphere around him. 

Halfway through eating ( and drinking down five shots, in Seungmin’s case), Chan gets a phone call. Seungmin watches the storm clouds gather on the curly-haired man’s face. “Right now? Okay, I’ll be there in a moment.” Chan sighs and slides his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Some assholes are picking fights inside the club. I’ve gotta go take care of it.” 

“We’ll come back with you,” Woojin concedes, and Seungmin nods sloppily. “I’ll beat the shit out of them for you, Chan.” 

Chan stares at Seungmin, bemused. “You’re drunk off your ass, aren’t you?”

“Crystal,” Seungmin replies proudly, swaying a little as he stands, and Hyunjin laughs, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I’ve got you, dude.” 

Seungmin smiles and pats the taller man on the arm. “Thank you, pretty man.” 

Woojin disguises his laughter as a coughing fit. It takes the four of them a little longer than normal to get across the street to District- Seungmin keeps trying to run into traffic to catch the pretty lights, and Hyunjin has to stop and crouch and take breaks to laugh until his voice gets hoarse. When they finally get there, it’s absolute chaos. 

“What the fuck!” Chan yells, hands on his hips, but nobody is listening. There’s a massive drunken bar fight going on, with normal clubbers filming the whole thing. “I swear to _fucking_ god, I leave for literally _one_ hour and this place falls apart-,” 

Seungmin tugs on Hyunjin’s sleeve. “Hey. That guy- he’s kinda familiar, don’t you think?” Hyunjin snorts, eyes fixated on the skirmish with a twisted kind of delight. “He has a hood over his face. I can’t see for shit, dude.” 

Seungmin’s brain chugs along. The way that man fights is too refined for a normal person. He’s short and agile and fast, punching out bigger guys twice his size like it’s easy for him. Normal Seungmin would probably (definitely) have not done what Drunk Seungmin does next, but Normal Seungmin is generally not an Idiot. 

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin calls as he staggers forward, through the throng of clubbers. “Seungmin? Where are you going?” 

“Hey,” Seungmin says to the short man. When he turns around, Seungmin punches him in the face. “Oh, fuck. Wait. I left my rings on.” Seungmin stammers, staring down at the silver bands on his index fingers. The clubbers shriek, horrified, and the people fighting around him cheer. The black-clad man rocks back, stunned, and then he moves forward, and Seungmin catches a flash of silver and white before he’s punched into oblivion for the _second_ time that night. 

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” Woojin sighs, dropping his head into his hands, utterly defeated. Hyunjin sidles up beside him. “Is Seungmin always like this?” 

Woojin rubs his jaw tiredly. “Yes. Yes, he is.” 

**  
JANUARY 26th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA. 

Seungmin wakes up late for work with a pounding headache and a new number in his phone. HYUNJIN! the contact name states, and Seungmin desperately tries to remember the events of the previous night as he pulls on his pants and swallows down a handful of Advil, dry. 

There’s a bottle of foundation on the kitchen counter- one of Chan’s, and Seungmin smears it under his jaw and right eye, wincing at the pressure against the tender skin there. _Oh, Hyunjin gave this to me_ , Seungmin realizes, inspecting the black eye in the reflective door of the microwave. _He was really nice_. 

There are bruises on his shoulders and chest, too, but that wasn’t Hyunjin. 

_Oh, right_ , Seungmin thinks, shoving a cold pop-tart into his mouth as he trips down the apartment steps and into the grey streets of Seoul, _There was a bar fight_. The guy had probably deserved that punch, anyways. 

He checks his watch. If he runs, he might just make it to work on time. And so he runs, narrowly avoiding a collision with a pair of elderly ladies. _Please don’t be late please don’t be late_ , Seungmin prays, the words matching tempo with the throbbing in his right temple. 

Seungmin reaches the conference room with seconds to spare, out of breath and sore all over. Felix is already seating in one of the plush black chairs, immaculate and as well put together as ever. The copper-haired man does a double-take as Seungmin lowers himself into the seat next to him. 

“Holy _shit_! What the hell happened to you?” 

“I… fell down the stairs to my apartment last night,” Seungmin says lamely. “I was really, really drunk.”

Felix whistles lowly, poking at the purpling black eye underneath Seungmin’s glasses. He’d done his best to cover it up with foundation before leaving earlier, but some of it must have melted away. “Must’ve been a whole lot of alcohol, then. You take any Advil for that?” 

“Six.” 

Felix shakes his head and snickers, patting Seungmin sympathetically on his very bruised shoulder. Seungmin does his best not to wince as Mrs. Juk steps out of her office, a new set of files in her hands. She raises an eyebrow at Seungmin’s bruises, but says nothing. 

“Our client is here today- he’s taking a moment to compose himself in my office, but he should be out shortly.” 

Seungmin snakes his hand under Felix’s’ arm to snatch the file back, but freezes as the door between the conference room and Mrs. Juk’s office opens once more. 

Mrs. Juk looks up and motions to the empty seat next to her and across from Seungmin and Felix. 

“Ah, Mr. Seo, nice to have you join us. Please, take a seat.” 

“Thank you,” says a soft, slightly nasal voice, and Seungmin freezes. Every muscle in his body tenses and his brain screams at him to leap across the table and _run_ , because the man slouching his way over to them is none other than SpearB.


	2. two fists above

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! im gay and consequently have no grasp of concepts like time :)
> 
> ( boxer is now the theme song of this fic. this fic is going to be...longer than 4 chapters maybe.. we will See)
> 
> **just edited typos

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 26th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

SpearB looks smaller in daylight: softer, somehow. He’s dressed in grey washed jeans and a thick down jacket; double silver hoops line his ears.

_He must take them out before he fights_. 

Despite the loose, puffy clothing, there’s still a suggestion of strength and muscle underneath, belied by the graceful, fluid way the fighter walks. 

Mr. Seo- _SpearB_ \- looks up as he slides into the padded oak seat, and Seungmin’s heart nearly stops. He’s pretty, he’s a living god, and he’s sitting four feet away from Seungmin. 

_Oh my fucking god_ , Seungmin thinks. _There’s no fucking way- there must be some mistake_. He remembers Jeongin telling him about SpearB getting kicked out of The Loft, and his heart sinks. 

Mrs. Juk clears her throat, and Seungmin flinches, tearing his eyes away from the shorter man. “Are you okay?” Felix whispers, and Seungmin gives a curt nod. 

_Pull it together, Kim_.

“These two are my interns and assistants. To your right is Lee Felix, and to your left is Kim Seungmin. 

Along with me, they’re here to help you- there’s a strict confidentiality clause in place to assure that everything shared here _remains_ here.”

She slides another folder over to Seungmin, who takes it with a bowed head.

“And this-,” Mrs. Juk waves a red-tipped hand at SpearB. “-is Seo Changbin. He’s filing a suit against the owner of a bar called The Loft.” 

Seungmin peers over at SpearB. 

_Changbin_ , he thinks, rolling the name around inside his mouth like wine. It fits him. Seungmin bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking the words aloud. 

“Hello,” Changbin says. It’s directed at the both of them, but the fighter’s gaze is fixed solely on Seungmin, firey and unwavering. 

There’s recognition in Changbin’s eyes, and it’s accusatory and as sharp as flint against stone.  
Seungmin nearly chokes when he sees the large, purpling bruise blossoming over the other man’s cheekbone. 

It’s from _his_ fist- he knows this because there’s the indentation of a ring pressed into the skin of his face, right where the index knuckle would be. 

_I beat SpearB up in a drunken bar fight_ , Seungmin thinks, head spinning, _And I’m also going to be representing him in court. I’m fucked_. He’s so, so absolutely fucked. 

“I ran into a pole last night,” Changbin says softly, reaching up to press at the tender, swollen skin, his gaze never leaving Seungmin’s. “They don’t make very good sparring partners, unfortunately.” 

Mrs. Juk and Felix laugh politely, but Seungmin just sits there, frozen in shock. 

_I know you_ , are the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. 

_I know what you do_. 

Anxiety wells up in the bottom of Seungmin’s stomach, heavy and thick; a thundercloud swelled to bursting. 

He tears his eyes away and flips open the folder in a desperate attempt to feign nonchalance. He’s royally screwed now. Changbin recognizes him; the man could easily end Seungmin’s day job and land him in prison if he wanted to. 

He needs this job, as much as he hates it. And he _definitely_ needs to win The Gauntlet. 

_I’ll beat you_ , Seungmin thinks viciously, flipping through the report. _I’ll win against you fair and square._

Mrs. Juk pushes her large, round glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Seo, would you care to walk us through what happened on the night of the incident? January 22nd.”

“Alright,” Changbin says slowly, shooting Seungmin one last steel-tipped glare before starting. 

“I had been working as a-,” He exchanges a look with Mrs. Juk, who nods slightly. “-As a patron at The Loft for the last two years or so. I was bringing in a lot of revenue for them. I, in what was probably not the best move, ended up having a consistent-” ( Seungmin notes that he stumbles briefly over his words at this part) “-sexual relationship with the owner of The Loft.”

Seungmin freezes. _Lee Jaehwa_? He doesn’t know too much about the owner of the large bar, but he’s heard enough from Woojin, Jeongin, and Chan to know that she’s a total stone cold bitch.

_( “You’d be best to stay away from her,” Jeongin murmurs one mild summer night from the seats at the back of The Loft. They’re here for SpearB, here to watch him fight. To observe. “She’s a real piece of work. A nasty person. Don’t trust her with anything.” )_

Changbin’s fingers tap a nervous staccato on the surface of the wooden table. “And because of that, she now has videos and photos that I’d rather not have see the light of day in her possession.” 

“She’s blackmailing you?” Felix says, eyebrow raised. Changbin scowls at him. 

“Yes. Unless I give her a large cut of the winnings I’ll be receiving in the upcoming months-,” Seungmin grips his pen so tightly that it nearly snaps right in half- “-She’s threatening to leak those photos and ruin any shred of credibility I have left.” 

Mrs. Juk shifts in her chair. “Normally, these types of cases would be fairly manageable to deal with, but due to Mr. Seo’s… _extenuating_ circumstances, we’re going to need to take some precautions to make sure that any additional information about him outside of this case is locked down.” 

_I never imagined that he’d be kicked out of The Loft over a breakup_ , Seungmin thinks, tapping the end of his pen against his lower lip as he squints at the report. Lee Jaehwa is much, _much_ nastier than he’d originally thought. He flips to the last page, which, unfortunately, describes in Great Detail what exactly those videos contain. Blushing, he closes the folder and pushes it away from him. He’s going to have to read those later to glue together a good offensive argument in court, but Changbin is staring at him with those eyes again and Seungmin does not want to embarrass himself any further. 

_I’ll just stay out of his way as much as I can_. 

Mrs. Juk taps her acrylic nails on the conference table. “I’ve decided that Seungmin will represent you alongside me in court. He’s one of the brightest interns I’ve ever had.” She looks over at Felix. “Don’t give me that look, Lee. You’ve only been here for half a year- you’ll get your chance in due time.” 

Felix gives Seungmin’s shoulder a little punch. “Congrats, man!” 

“Uh-huh,” Seungmin manages through a wave of badly concealed horror, “Thanks. I’m, uh, honoured.” 

“Excellent,” Mrs. Juk says, typing away at something on her Macbook, “Glad to have you on board. We’ll reconvene at this time next week, but I suggest that you get to know Mr. Seo over lunch sometime to establish a rapport and go over the details of the case more thoroughly.” 

Seungmin digs his fingers so hard into his upper thighs that the pain nearly takes him by surprise. “Sounds good.” 

Changbin raises one eyebrow but says nothing. How he manages to look cool and composed with a very obvious black eye is beyond Seungmin’s comprehension. 

He escapes the conference room while Felix bombards Changbin with questions about The Loft, legs wobbly and breathing uneven. 

_This is not good. This is not not not good_. 

Jisoo says something to him as he speedwalks out of the front lobby, but he doesn’t catch it, his head too full of his own thoughts. Seungmin’s sweat-slick hands slip against the metal doorknob, slowing him down, but finally he’s through the EMPLOYEE’S ONLY door, taking the steps two at a time. 

Seungmin pushes himself out the back door, mind racing. The area is meant for smoking; two ashtrays sit next to the wall and cigarette butts litter the pavement.. The acrid stench of cigarettes sticks to the slick cobblestones determinedly. 

_God. What are the odds_? 

There are two options, now. Option one: he forgets about The Gauntlet and fighting in it. He keeps his main job. That’s bullshit and isn’t happening, which means that he’s going to have to go with option two: beg Changbin and ask the man to not get his ass fired and/or arrested. 

Seungmin has never been good at begging, but the longer he thinks about it, the more resigned he becomes. 

He takes in a deep breath and leans against the wall. At the end of the alley, cars streak by, blurs of light and colour and sound. Seungmin stares down at his hands, watching with a odd sense of detachment as they shake and tremble like leaves in the wind. 

The door creaks open, and even without turning around, Seungmin knows who it is. 

“Thought you could get away, huh.” A statement. 

Seungmin turns around, schooling his expression into something more neutral. “That’s not it. I just needed some air.”

Changbin makes an unconvinced noise and zips up his jacket. His nose is already turning pink from the cold. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a street fighter who has a day job as a _lawyer_. Kind of risky, don’t you think?” 

Seungmin takes a halting step forward, hands curling into fists. “Don’t say anything to _anybody,_ ” He growls, pushing the smaller man up against the rain-damp wall. “You have _no_ right to do so.” 

Changbin scoffs and leans up into Seungmin’s personal space, undeterred. “You can understand why I don’t exactly feel safe with having a potential opponent representing me in court?” 

“How the hell do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve seen you fight before,” Changbin says evasively, his face giving nothing away. “You’re still rough around the edges, but you’re good.” The shorter man looks out towards the street, shifting back and forth on his feet. “I don’t want you blackmailing me to win.” 

“Well, I don’t want you to blackmail me to win,” Seungmin retorts, stepping back and folding his arms. “I’m not sleazy enough to blackmail you over something like- something like that. I’m going to win fairly.” 

He pauses. “Well, as fairly as you can, with something like this.” 

“Fair isn’t a word used often by people like us,” Changbin responds drily, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a small, genuine smile. Seeing SpearB smile like a normal person in the full light of day takes Seungmin aback, makes his brain disconnect momentarily. 

“Just-please don’t say anything. I’m not going to fuck you over, I swear to god that I’ll keep my mouth shut about this.” Seungmin gestures towards the law building behind him, panic rising in his chest. 

“I wouldn’t be doing something like this if I was in a situation that allowed it.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” Changbin asks, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Nobody is here because they woke up one day and thought, ‘ _Today is the day I fight people in disgusting bars for dirty money_ ’.” 

He leans forward, the weak sunlight glinting off his metal hoops. 

“You seem _good_ , Kim. Why are you here?”

_Dirtyuglybad_ , Seungmin thinks. _That’s what I am_. His hands reach out by themselves, brush over the crinkly fabric of Changbin’s windbreaker before hovering to a stop just over the smaller man’s arms. 

The skies crack above them, and rain begins to fall, filmy and light. It sticks to their hair and skin in a cool mist, like spider-silk. 

“Please,” Seungmin pleads, a hot line of embarrassment running down his chest at the way his voice breaks, “Please don’t turn me in.” 

Changbin looks up at him, eyes wide and startled, mouth slack. His face is so- it’s so _pretty,_ so delicate, like a cherub in an old masters painting. It’s entirely at odds with the muscled, tattooed physique of his body.

Water droplets bead on Changbin’s eyelashes, on the bow of his upper lip. Seungmin briefly thinks about licking the water off before coming back to his senses. 

_What the fuck_. 

Changbin clears his throat. “Jesus. Okay. So long as you don’t screw me over, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” The shorter man gently pushes Seungmin’s arms away. 

“And I doubt you’ll make it that far into The Gauntlet, but if you do end up going against me, I won’t hold back.” 

Seungmin can feel the anxiety swirling down and out of the metaphorical bathtub that is his brain. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, serious as can be, and Changbin smiles a fiery little smile up at him, all smoke and glowing embers. 

“Good.”  
━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

“You _what_?” Jeongin screeches, causing half of the people in the cafe to look up from their meals and stare at him. “You’re representing SpearB in court? The SpearB you’re dead set on beating in The Gauntlet?” 

“Not so loud!” Seungmin hisses, waving a hand apologetically at the disgruntled customers. “I don’t want everyone and their mother knowing about this.” 

He sighs and pokes at his bulgogi half-heartedly with his chopsticks. 

“I don’t know what to do. He promised not to say anything, but he’s still a loose end. If it’s discovered that I’m doing something like this while working in a law office, I could get arrested.” 

Jeongin looks at him from over his drink, eyes warm. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll just bail you out of jail, easy.” 

Seungmin laughs and shakes his head. “I always forget how filthy rich you are.” 

“It’s my _parents_ ,” Jeongin corrects, “And I’ve got to use my silver spoon powers for some good. It’s either bailing you out of jail or starting an animal shelter entirely for cats.” 

“You’re allergic to cat hair.” 

Jeongin nods sagely. “Exactly. You’re my only option.” 

“Winning The Gauntlet is my only option,” Seungmin murmurs, looking out the cafe window. It’s still raining, but it’s heavier now. Raindrops snap against the wet pavement aggressively. 

People dash to their cars, bags and purses held over their heads in a vain attempt to keep themselves from getting soaked. Seungmin can already smell the petrichor, heady and crisp and full of blooming things. 

Jeongin reaches over and snags some of his bulgogi. “I know. You can do it, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your best friend. You’re really talented, Minnie. I believe in you.” 

“Thanks,” Seungmin says quietly, and he means it. _I hope you’re right_. 

“When does The Gauntlet start, again?” 

“A month,” Seungmin whispers, feeling woefully underprepared already, “It begins in a month.” 

???  
JANUARY 26th, 2021. GWANGJU, SOUTH KOREA

Gwangju moves noiselessly below him, a sea of colourful umbrellas and cars gliding along the rain-slick streets like metal fish. This high up, you can’t hear anything but the rain spitting against the glass windows. 

_Mobius strips_ , he thinks. _Mobius strips tangled around each other, never touching in all their pine-pasted repetition._

He casts a look over to the phone. The surface is dark, reflective. He’s waiting on a call- he wouldn’t be here this late otherwise- but he’s beginning to think that it’s not going to come through. Not tonight. 

It’s another game, probably. He loves games. That’s why he’s so good at his job. A strange profession, sure- unconventional, even- but it pays very well. 

He slides out of the plush leather chair and steps towards the windows, hands tucked neatly behind his back. 

Nine floors up, but he can still see the people scurrying around below, drenched with water and looking utterly miserable. Soon, that will be him- he parked the car almost a block away earlier as the skies had been clear and almost blue- and it sparks a little bulb of irritation inside him. 

_You’re supposed to be prepared for these kind of things._

A gust of wind pushes the rain sideways; it splatters against the glass windows and the sound of it is oddly musical. The phone rings, cutting through the tintinnabulation. He eyes the device warily for a brief moment before picking up. 

“Yes.” 

Her voice is tight, irritated. “You didn’t do your job.” 

_Bitch._

Phone pressed to his ear, he makes his way around the desk and back to the windows, gaze unfocused. 

“I’ve done everything exactly as you asked me to. The results are not my fault- either he’s smarter than you thought, or you underestimated him.” 

She sighs, static buzzing through the plastic against his ear. “You’re supposed to be the best. I’m paying you well- do better.” 

He reins in the red cloud that threatens to spill out of him, shoves it back into the little box where it stays. When he speaks, his voice is tight, soft- he doesn’t recognize it. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it. You have my word.” 

She hangs up without a word. He holds the dead phone to his ear for a few moments before slamming it onto the desk, cracking the glass. He stares down at the lines spider webbing across the screen. 

Sometimes he really fucking _hates_ his job. He thinks of his bank account and smiles to himself. At least the pay is always good. 

 

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 26th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Seungmin steps into the club and shakes his head, spattering water droplets against the walls. He folds up his umbrella and leans it against the door. 

“Hey!” Woojin says, sliding out from behind the bar. He’s in a black sweater and denim jeans- clothing not made for fighting.

Seungmin frowns. “Did I get the date wrong?”

Woojin hums and shakes his head. “You’re too used to my fighting style by now- you’ve learned everything from me, so us sparring wouldn’t do you much good at this point.”

“So who am I fighting today?” 

Woojin grins. “Chan.” 

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 1st, 2019. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

_“Hey,” Seungmin says breathlessly, pushing through the crowd trailing after the man, “You’re Chan, right?”_

_He’s getting sick of running notes for Woojin like some kind of pack rat, but if it means that Woojin will teach him how to fight, he’ll bear it. For now. Seungmin knows Seoul like the back of his hand at this point- it’s hard to believe how little he had known about its alleyways and shortcuts before._

_The man, a short, muscular man with a mop of curly black hair, nods. His nose is broken, Seungmin notes, and probably not for the first time. That’s the price of victory, though. Sometimes you just need to grin and bear it._

_“What’s it to you?” Chan’s voice isn’t hostile, exactly, but it’s not kind either. Seungmin swallows._

_“I’m- Woojin sent me here? To pass on a message.” He watches as Chan’s face softens, brightens._

Ah, _he thinks_. So that’s the kind of relationship they have. 

_Chan smiles cheerfully, his expression and demeanor switching so quickly that it makes Seungmin take a shocked step backwards._

_“You should have told me that in the first place! Any friend of Woojin’s is a friend of mine.” He touches the bridge of his nose gingerly and hisses softly._

_“Anyways-what’s the message?”_

_Seungmin looks down at the little slip of paper in his hands. It’s waterlogged and runny from the fog outside, but Woojin’s looping scrawl is still visible._

_“Something about a bird.”_

_Chan snatches the paper out of Seungmin’s hands and reads it, eyes flicking back and forth across the surface._

_“Fuck,” He swears softly, crumpling the paper up into a tiny ball. Seungmin watches with a kind of horrified interest as Chan pops the paper into his mouth and swallows it whole._

_Chan sighs and pats Seungmin’s shoulder. Seungmin does his best not to flinch. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get out of here.”_

_Seungmin takes one long look back at the bloodstained ring and flickering, throbbing crowd before following the shorter man out of the club and into the night._

_Seungmin still doesn’t know what the note means- but he does know that Chan and Woojin’s day job is far from legal. He has his theories, and most of them tie into gang activity, if the gun taped under Chan’s work desk at home is any indicator._

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 26th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

“You need to work on your upper body strength,” Woojin says, leaning back into his chair, “Or at least balance it out with your lower body. You rely too much on your legs.” 

It’s another evening of training at District, and it’s Chan in the ring this time. The man is a menace- his body is hard to read, making his movements almost completely unpredictable.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin adds, taking an obnoxiously loud bite from his apple, “I noticed that when I fought you- you rely on your left leg a lot.” 

Seungmin wipes the sweat off of his forehead and shoots the taller man a glare. “Why are you even here? This is a closed session.” Hyunjin shakes his head sadly. 

“And here I was thinking we were best friends.” 

“ _I’m_ his best friend,” Jeongin drawls, rolling off of the threadbare couch pushed up against the wall. “It’s a status that can be obtained only through putting up with his annoying ass for four plus years.”

Seungmin huffs. “What is this, gang up on Seungmin day?”  
Chan takes his moment of distraction to throw a punch towards the side of his head. He ducks just in time, Chan’s knuckles passing lightly over the tips of his hair. 

Seungmin exhales as he slides down into a crouch, kicking out his left leg as he does so and hooking it around the back of Chan’s calf. He unbalances the older man in one swift, brash move, sending him toppling to the thinly cushioned floor of the ring. 

“He has good legs, though,” Hyunjin admits, taking a last bite of apple before throwing it into the trash. “Frog legs.” 

“Frog legs,” Jeongin agrees, flopping back onto the couch.

Chan punches Seungmin in the face. The resounding thud of flesh against flesh makes both Hyunjin and Jeongin flinch. Woojin watches on, face impassive. 

Practice ends with Seungmin melting back into the old couch, nursing a bag of ice against his already bruising cheek with one hand. Chan hovers over him worriedly, brows furrowed. 

“I’m really sorry,” The older man murmurs, licking his thumb and then scrubbing it against a speck of dried blood on Seungmin’s cheek. “I would have held back, but Woojin told me not to.” 

“Holding back is only going to hurt him more in the long run,” Woojin chides. He laces his fingers through Chan’s bruised ones, gentle enough to make Seungmin look away. Chan just sighs and turns his face into the crook of Woojin’s neck. 

“It’s fine,” Seungmin says, wincing as Jeongin leans back against his bruised shins. “I need to be able to take a punch or ten, you know. I’m not going to win The Gauntlet otherwise.” 

Jeongin mumbles something under his breath. Seungmin narrows his eyes. “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Jeongin drawls, tipping his head back against Seungmin’s knees, “At least, nothing important enough to share with everyone else here.” 

Oh. So _that’s_ what Jeongin’s getting at. There’s no way Seungmin is going to tell Woojin and Chan that he’s representing Changbin in court- they’d do everything possible to prevent Seungmin from fighting. 

“ _Too messy_ ,” He can already hear Woojin say, can already see the small, disapproving frown on the older man’s face. “ _There are way too many loose ends in a situation like this_.” 

So instead, Seungmin settles for kicking Jeongin in the ribs with the heel of his foot. 

Jeongin yelps and scrambles away from him, one hand splayed protectively over his ribs. He looks like an angry little ferret. “Ouch, you asshole.” 

“Oops,” Seungmin singsongs, sliding off of the couch. “My bad.” 

Jeongin tackles Seungmin, and they both fall to the floor in a puppy-clumsy mess of limbs and feet. Jeongin waggles his fingers and proceeds to attack Seungmin’s Very Ticklish sides with more gusto than entirely necessary. 

“Stop,” Seungmin giggles, batting at Jeongin’s hands. “S-Stoooop.”

Hyunjin ignores the both of them. “Seungmin, do you want to come to Registration with me?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and wolf whistles, earning a sharp look from Hyunjin. “As _friends_ , of course. Jesus.”

Seungmin looks up, both hands locked around Jeongin’s wrists. “What?” 

Chan scratches his head, expression sheepish. “I guess I forgot to tell you about that. It’s kind of important.” 

“I totally forgot about it myself,” Woojin adds. “You can skip it if you want to. It’s not necessary. “ He doesn’t look pleased; a muscle in his jaw twitches. 

“Networking is essential, even in a field like this,” Hyunjin retorts. “It’s like, the number one way to guarantee that people won’t kill you after they fight you and lose miserably.”

Seungmin pushes Jeongin off of him and sits up slowly, ignoring the twinges in his ribs and lower back. “Okay, yeah, but what _is_ it?” 

Woojin eyes Seungmin’s willowy frame. “We’re gonna need to get you a suit.”

 

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 27th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Registration isn’t a sign up for The Gauntlet; it’s not even a pre-event where all the hopeful fighters can beat the shit out of each other in one disgustingly bloody fight. No, this is a suit and tie _dinner_. Dinner, with sixty or so street fighters, most of them with a criminal record longer than Seungmin’s student debts. 

It’s much, much worse than Seungmin thought. He bites down on the inside of his cheek as they make their way down the street, the black umbrella Hyunjin holds barely enough to cover the shoulders of two fully grown men.

Seungmin tucks his nose further into his scarf, frowning as his glasses start to fog up. No contacts today; if he wears them too much his eyes dry out. 

“So no fighting?” 

Hyunjin sighs. “No.”

“No flipping over tables and starting a gang war?” 

“ _No_.”

Seungmin grins and props his chin on his hands. “No ill-concealed threats and harassment over an obnoxiously overpriced steak the size of my fist?” 

“ _N_ \- you know what? Maybe.” Hyunjin pulls open the door to the little tailors shop, expression contemplative. “Probably. It’s a little different everywhere. It’s at a public restaurant, though, so you need to be on your best behaviour. Capiche?” 

“I have manners, you know,” Seungmin protests, dragging his heels at the sight of the racks of suits and ties. “I can behave.” 

Hyunjin laughs and shakes off the umbrella in the entryway. Seungmin watches as little droplets of water spatter against the glossy oak floorboards. “I know. You wouldn’t be able to keep your day job otherwise.”

“Hyunjin!” 

Seungmin looks up. It’s a young, attractive woman with long nutmeg brown hair. She’s dressed in a pinstriped suit and tall, black heels. A grey beret rests on top of her head. 

“Hello, Lee Ahn,” Hyunjin says warmly, giving the shorter woman a hug. “It’s nice to see you again- it’s been a while.” 

“Almost a year,” Lee Ahn replies. She turns and rakes a clinical eye over Seungmin’s body. “I see you’ve brought me some fresh meat. He’s pretty. Where’d you pick him up?” 

Seungmin flushes, unused to _this_ particular type of attention. Hyunjin chuckles. “He’s a charity case. See if you can try and salvage him.” 

“Hey!” Seungmin protests, but Lee Ahn is already dragging him towards the change rooms, chatting his ear off. 

He can barely get a word in; the stream of chatter flows continuously, as do the various suits Lee Ahn pulls off the racks and shoves into his hands. “And _then_ I went to Paris for a cheese festival- try this one on, darling, the navy colour would look so nice with your complexion- and to my surprise, I went home not with my date but with the _chairwoman_ -,” 

“Uh-huh,” Seungmin manages, cursing as he bumps again the walls of the change room, one leg shoved into a pair of dress pants. 

“- And she took me to her penthouse- what an absolute _view_ that was- oh, I like this one! It’s good- what do you think, Hyunjin?” 

Seungmin staggers to a stop in front of the other man, eyes wide. Hyunjin grins. “It’s nice! You managed to make him look presentable.” 

“I’ll make him look more than _presentable_ ,” Lee Ahn mutters darkly. Seungmin flinches as she steps towards him, brandishing a measuring tape. “Come here, Kim Seungmin. I need to measure your crotch.” 

“My… crotch?” 

“This is so, _so_ fun,” Hyunjin muses, leaning against the counter. “Tonight is just going to be the best.” 

Seungmin stands stiff-legged as Lee Ahn measures him, pinning parts of his suit back and slapping sticky notes onto loose areas. _Not fun_ , Seungmin thinks, wincing as Lee Ahn stabs him with another pin, _not fun at all._

He wonders if SpearB- _Changbin, it’s Changbin_ \- will be at the dinner tonight, wonders what kind of suit he’ll wear. Maybe he’ll just show up in jeans and a t-shirt, loose and casual and still reeking of money. 

_Stop thinking about him!_

Seungmin shakes his head and pushes all thoughts of the shorter man back into the recesses of his brain. _No point in worrying about him. He gave me his word._

How much does Changbin’s word mean, though? When it comes down to it, will it hold?

 

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

 

**woojin**  
[ 6:30pm ]

_have fun tonight._  
_but not too much fun_  
_remember, none of these guys are looking for new friends_

**you**  
[ 6:32pm ]

_love you too_  
_i think i’m gonna vomit_

**woojin**  
[ 6:34 pm ]

_you’ll be fine_  
_just aim for hyunjin_

**you**  
[ 6:34 pm] 

_LOL_

 

“Just hold onto my arm, okay?”

Seungmin pouts and slides his phone into his pocket. “But people are going to think that we’re _dating_.” 

He hooks his arm through Hyunjin’s anyways, aware of all the people looking at the limo. Where the fuck did Hyunjin even get a limo from? How rich is he? Not for the first time, Seungmin is struck by how little he knows about Hyunjin. He has known the man for only a few days, after all.

“That’s the point, stupid. They’ll underestimate us- it gives us the upper hand.” Hyunjin pats Seungmin’s hand. “Don’t worry. Just follow me and do _not_ say anything stupid.” 

Seungmin grumbles under his breath. “No promises.” A little tendril of anxiety knots itself at the base of his stomach, heavy and present. He has no idea what to expect: formalities outside of the law office have never been his strong suit, and the thought of having to seeing Changbin in a _suit_ is doing weird things to his head. 

_At least I look good_. Seungmin’s never really considered himself an incredibly attractive person, but the blue-black suit shows off his slim waist, his long legs. Lee Ahn may have been a lot of personality packed into a tiny figure, but she knew how to tailor a suit. She’d even given Seungmin a black leather choker to wear around his neck- “ _It’s Gucci, sweetheart, just take it_ -,” and a pair of dark brown loafers. 

Hyunjin looks like a greek god in a simple black and white suit, his hair pushed back off of his forehead. Seungmin can’t stop staring at him. It’s like Hyunjin is part fae; there’s an aura of something commanding and magical surrounding him. 

They make their way up to the restaurants double doors. A large man in a black suit holds it open for them. “Hwang Hyunjin? Kim Seungmin?” He asks, looking down at a hand-printed list. Seungmin thinks he sees a black and white picture of his own face before the man slips the papers into his breast pocket. 

“That’s us,” Hyunjin says cheerfully. Seungmin just nods, a little intimidated at the luxury of the place. The man leads them inside to a reception area.

There’s stone beneath Seungmin’s feet and stone on the walls. Water trickles down from a wall mounted fountain. It’s all glass and gold; torches line the exterior walls. Everything looks very expensive and very, very breakable. A waitress in a short black dress smiles at them and gestures for them to follow her.

Hyunjin tightens his grip on Seungmin’s arm. _I guess he’s nervous, too_. 

The restaurant is eerily empty, save for the waiters milling around. “The manager of The Gauntlet cleared the whole thing out for tonight,” Hyunjin breathes, speaking quietly enough so that only Seungmin can hear. “We’re in one of the conference rooms at the back.” 

“Are we late?” Seungmin asks, glancing over his shoulder. There’s nobody arriving behind them. Hyunjin smirks, the corner of his lip curling up. 

“Only by about fifteen minutes or so. They have to wait for everyone to arrive before they start ordering food.” 

“You’re a monster,” Seungmin says, awestruck and a little terrified. “They’re going to hate us.” 

The waitress stops outside another set of glass doors; however, they’re milky and opaque and it's nearly impossible to see anything but blurred shapes through them. Hyunjin takes the menus from her hand with a smile, his grin widening as she blushes and looks away. 

“Trust me- they already do.” 

He wraps an arm around Seungmin’s waist and pulls him through the doors with an easy kind of grace. The room falls silent almost immediately. It’s set up like something from the dark ages - one long table, with a row of people on either side. There’s something at the end of the table that looks suspiciously like a throne, and sitting on it is none other than- _Fuck_ , Seungmin thinks. _Fucking fuck fuck_. 

“How nice of you two to finally show up,” Seo Changbin drawls, gaze pinning Seungmin to the spot, “I was thinking that you might have gotten lost.” There’s no trace of the man Seungmin had spoken to yesterday morning, no flicker of kindness in his eyes. It’s an unspoken message: _Pretend like nothing is different. Nothing has changed_. 

Seungmin stands a little straighter. _I can do that_. 

Changbin gives the pair of them a long look, his eyes lingering on Seungmin’s neck- _I knew the choker was too much_ \- before his gaze flickers to the arm around Seungmin’s waist. It doesn’t escape Hyunjin’s attention.

Hyunjin smiles wolfishly. “We might have lost track of time.” There’s no missing the low, sultry tone to his words. A couple people start catcalling before Changbin cuts them off with a swipe of his hand. 

“Come sit over here.” Changbin gestures to the two empty seats to his left. It’s a command, not a suggestion. Seungmin can feel his heart sinking. 

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Hyunjin purrs, pulling Seungmin behind him. “We’re absolutely _famished_.” 

_Hyunjin is an evil, evil man_ , Seungmin thinks despondently. _He’s going to get me killed_. He makes sure that Hyunjin takes the seat directly to Changbin’s right, settling in between Hyunjin and another man instead. 

He tries his best not to look at Changbin, but it’s like Changbin is a fucking bouquet of catnip and he’s a cat that hasn’t eaten in days. The shorter man is wearing a black suit with no dress shirt underneath, exposing the smooth, broad planes of his chest. 

Seungmin can see black ink peeking out from underneath one of the lapels of the suit. The hoops are back in Changbin’s ears, and several rings adorn his fingers. His hair is gelled and pushed off his forehead, and his eyes are rimmed with a touch of kohl. 

_He looks good_ , Seungmin thinks, and then _why the fuck did I think that_? 

A warm, slightly reedy voice snaps him out of his Changbin-induced stupor. “You okay?” 

Seungmin blinks and looks over to his right. The man sitting next to him is staring at him, his large eyes inquisitive. He’s wearing a strange red suit with cat faces on it that does nothing to diminish his elfish good looks.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I zoned out or something.” 

The man fiddles with his cufflinks and nods. “I get that. It’s pretty easy to get lost in your own thoughts when you’re surrounded by idiots.” 

A shocked laugh escapes Seungmin’s mouth, genuine and clear. “You’re going to get yourself beat up.” 

“I’ll take my chances,” The man snickers, a tiny grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m Lee Minho. This is my third run at The Gauntlet.” 

“Kim Seungmin,” Seungmin replies, shaking Minho’s hand. “This is my first time, if you couldn’t already tell.” 

Minho hums sympathetically. “The first time is always the hardest. It gets better, though. Is that your boyfriend?” He hikes a thumb over at Hyunjin, who’s conversing with the muscular woman across from him. 

“Ah-yeah,” Seungmin says, aware of Changbin’s eyes on the back of his neck. “We’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

Minho smiles. “Cute. How’d you meet?” 

Hyunjin leans back and threads his fingers through Seungmin’s. “He beat the living shit out of me. It was love at first sight.” 

“For _you_ ,” Seungmin says affectionately, flicking Hyunjin on the forehead. “You just annoyed me.” It’s much easier to play up this dating thing than he’d originally thought.

A large, bearded man sitting across from Seungmin makes a face. “Can you two pipe down a little? You're going to make me lose my appetite.” 

Comments like that make Seungmin’s blood boil. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, and Minho shifts in his seat like he’s going to say something, but Seungmin beats both of them to it. 

“Do you want to shut the fuck up before I make you?” Seungmin snaps. Maybe he’s going a little overboard, but he has a headache and Changbin is stressing him out. He doesn’t need this right now. 

A hush falls over their end of the table. Changbin leans back in his chair, posture loose and lazy, his eyes steely.

Beard Guy scoffs. A fat vein pulses on his forehead. “What are you going to do? Kill me?” 

Seungmin picks up his steak knife and throws it at him, not even looking in his direction. The blade twists in the air, spinning, before slamming down onto the table, pinning the man’s jacket sleeve to the table. 

Minho hands Seungmin his own steak knife. He takes it wordlessly and faces Beard Guy. “Next one goes through your eye. Choose your words carefully.” 

“Jesus,” Beard Guy mutters. He eyes the knife in Seungmin’s hand warily. “It was a joke.” 

Seungmin smiles thinly. “It wasn’t funny.” He reaches over and pulls the steak knife out of the table, enjoying the way the bigger man flinches away from him. Hyunjin slings an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder. 

“What a way to make an impression.” 

Seungmin closes his eyes. He can feel a headache starting to form behind his eyes, and they haven’t even ordered dinner yet. “I wasn’t trying to.” 

Hyunjin pats Seungmin’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know. That’s what I like about you." He pauses. "Don’t look now, but head honcho is staring at you.” 

Seungmin opens his eyes just in time to see Changbin turning his head away. Hyunjin sighs. “I said don’t look. Is that so hard to understand?” 

_I thought we were supposed to be pretending not to know each other_.

The waiters come to take their menus and orders. Minho points at a main course. “I had the black cod dish last year- it was really good.” 

Seungmin smiles at him gratefully. “Thanks.” 

Despite the large amount of people in the conference room the food comes quicker than Seungmin expected, servers placing down huge plates and bowls with tiny portions of food arranged artfully on their surfaces. 

Classical music plays in the background. Servers pour wine and top up crystal water glasses. It’s all very civilized and fancy and it makes Seungmin more than a little bit uncomfortable. 

Seungmin grimaces down at the child-sized portion of food on his plate, opting to take a drink of his water instead. 

Minho picks up one of the smaller forks and pops something round and purple into his mouth. 

“You enjoying your dish?” 

Seungmin squints down at it. “I don’t know- I can’t see it. It’s too small.” 

Hyunjin nudges him in the ribs, cheeks bulging with pasta. “Smartass.”

“That’s me,” Seungmin says, picking up his fork and loading a huge bite of the cod onto it, “The biggest smartass in Seoul-,” 

“ _Don’t eat that_.” 

Seungmin’s hand stills, his fork raised halfway to his open mouth. He looks up at Changbin, who’s staring back at him, brow furrowed.

“What?” 

There’s that look again; like the ice in Changbin’s eyes is thawing. The man pushes his chair back, voice bored and shoulders tense. 

“Come with me.” 

_What the fuck_ , Hyunjin mouths. Minho frowns, tilts his head like he’s asking Seungmin if he needs help. Seungmin shakes his head, shrugs, and follows the shorter man out of the conference room, the weight of sixty pairs of eyes resting on his shoulders. 

They walk down the hallway in silence, their dress shoes loud and squeaky on the stone floor.

Changbin stops at an open window to watch the rain fall. The milky grey light washes over the planes of his face and chest, making him look otherworldly, like he’s been carved out of marble and honey. For a detached, unbalanced moment, Seungmin doubts that Changbin is even real, wonders if he could pass his fingers right through the other man’s chest. 

And then he turns and faces Seungmin, leaning against the corridor wall in a startling, deja vu- inducing recreation of their first meeting. Seungmin tries not to stare at his chest and the smooth, satin slope of his neck and fails miserably. 

“So much for pretending like we don’t know each other,” Seungmin manages. Changbin shakes his head. “We don’t.” 

“Why’d you single me out, then?” 

Changbin peers down the hallway in both directions. He looks a little bit like a duck bobbing his head back and forth, Seungmin thinks, biting back a smile. Apparently satisfied that nobody is in their immediate area, the shorter man leans in, eyes dark. 

“I saw the waiter serving you put something into your food. He was watching you- waiting for you to take a bite from the far wall.” 

Seungmin blinks. _I wasn’t expecting that_. “Is this some hazing thing? It’s not funny.” 

Changbin grinds his teeth together, shifts his weight to one hip. He looks irritated, like he doesn’t know why he’s bothering to tell the gangly new kid any of this. “I’m dead serious. People try this shit all the time- try to knock out the competition early.”

“Are you sure?” One of Changbin’s shoelaces is untied. Seungmin fights the urge to kneel and lace it up, double-knotted, the way Chan showed him.

Changbin sighs. “Why the fuck would I make something like this up? I’m just telling you what I saw. If you want to eat the food, go ahead. I’ve done my part.” 

He turns to leave, irritation radiating off of his small, compact form in waves. Seungmin’s fingers reach out, curl around Changbin’s wrist before he can really think about it. Changbin’s wrist is oddly slim; Seungmin’s index finger nearly touches his thumb. Changbin freezes in place but doesn’t yank his arm away.

“What do you want.” 

Seungmin stares down at Changbin’s wrist, notes how warm Changbin is and wonders for a stupid, stupid moment how much warmer if would be if he slid his fingers down down down and clasped their hands together. 

“I just-,” Seungmin starts. Words fail him, so he licks his lips and tries again. “Thank you. For warning me, I mean. You didn’t have to.” 

Changbin pulls his wrist out of Seungmin’s grasp roughly. “I did,” He says, not turning back. Seungmin almost misses his next sentence. 

“You’re just a kid.”

“No, I’m not,” Seungmin whispers, watching Changbin disappear back into the conference room, something ugly and tight tangling up in his chest like fishing line.

“I’m not a kid,” He repeats, louder this time, but Changbin is already long gone, leaving him with cold hands and the staticky sound of rain in his head. 

 

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━  
SEUNGMIN  
FEBRUARY 14th, 2019. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA. 

_There’s a package in the little mailbox that he, Chan, and Woojin share. Seungmin stares at it, heart racing. It’s probably Chan or Woojin’s- they receive letters and bills and ads all the time. It’s probably nothing._

_So why are his hands shaking? Because today is-_

_Today-_

_The rectangular mouth of the mailbox yawns wide and ominous. Seungmin hears his own heartbeat pulse in his ears as he reaches in and slowly ( so slowly ) pulls out a letter-sized yellow package. Seungmin turns it over. It has his name on it._

_He drops it immediately. It falls to the crunchy, frost-tipped grass that lines the sidewalk outside the apartment soundlessly._

_Seungmin drops to a crouch, breath billowing out in a plume of frozen carbon dioxide. Pick it up, he tells himself. It’s not going to bite. Just pick it up, and go inside. You look silly crouching out here._

_It take him ten minutes to finally muster up the courage to pick up the little package, and five more to make it inside. The apartment smells like basil and warm bread- Woojin is making something delicious in the kitchen again._

_Chan is probably still asleep. Sometimes, in the winter months, he sleeps until noon and emerges from his bedroom bleary-eyed and curly-haired, a sheep in man’s clothing._

_( Sometimes, when Seungmin can’t sleep, he tiptoes into Chan and Woojin’s room like a child and curls up on the floor next to their bed, just to hear their slow, even breathing. He’s always gone before they wake up. )_

_“Seungmin? Is that you?” Woojin calls. Seungmin pauses, one foot on the stairs._

_“Yeah,” he calls back, fighting to keep his voice from wobbling. “Just checking for mail.”_

_“Anything good?”_

_Seungmin stares down at the package in his hands. It burns his hands, but maybe that’s just his numb, chilly fingers thawing. There’s a sour taste in his mouth._

_“No,” He says. “Nothing good.”_

_He locks his bedroom door behind him and sits down on the corner of his mattress. He could just throw out the package, leave it unopened and forgotten. He checks the address in the top right corner._

_It’s the same as all the other ones._

_Seungmin should throw it out. He should. But he can’t help but lift up the corner of the envelope, can’t help but shake the contents of the package onto the quilt. He stares. It’s a photo and a slip of paper._

_Bile rises in Seungmin’s throat._

_On the slip of paper is one number: 2._

_Seungmin crumples the paper up in his hand and cries. He turns the photo over so he doesn’t have to look at it. He lies there on his side, chest aching, watching through the window as icy rain starts to fall outside._

_“Seungmin!” Woojin calls. “Breakfast!”_

_Move, Seungmin tells himself. Move. Get up. Move on. He sits up slowly, tossing the slip of paper into the trash. The photo goes into a little shoebox that gets shoved back under his bed, and then he’s wiping his eyes and opening the door, doing his best to move on._

_Forget._

SEUNGMIN  
JANUARY 27th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

**unknown**  
[ 9:30pm ]

_Your guard dog won’t always be there, Seungmin._  
_What are you doing to do when I catch you alone?_  
_I’ll say it one more time: drop out of The Gauntlet._

**you**  
[ 9:30pm ]

_who the fuck are you??_  
_what do you want from me?_

**unknown**  
[ 9:32pm ]

_You better listen to me._  
_I really hate killing kids._

SpearB steps up to Hyunjin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hyunjin replies a little suspiciously. He’s not in the mood to be threatened right now, not when he’s had three very expensive glasses of wine and another bottle tucked inside his coat pocket. 

“Look after your boyfriend,” Is all the shorter man says before leaving, his entourage trailing behind him. 

Hyunjin whips his head around. “What the fuck?” 

After a solid five minutes of searching, he finally spots Seungmin standing outside the restaurant, not even under the cover of the canopy. “I swear to god,” Hyunjin mutters, cutting off a starry-eyed woman with full body tattoos, “Why can’t he just wait for the limo inside like a normal person?”

Hyunjin trots over to Seungmin, popping open the umbrella as he moves. “Why are you standing outside in the rain? You’re going to get pneumonia.” 

Seungmin doesn’t respond, eyes fixed on the electric blue glow of his phone screen. Hyunjin taps his shoulder.

“Seungmin, are you okay? You're kind of pale- you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” 

Seungmin looks up, eyes wide and more than a little shaken. Hyunjin gets that slow, sinking feeling- the _knowing_ feeling that something big and bad is going to happen. 

“I think that someone is trying to kill me.”


	3. all that shame, all that danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ slut drops tiredly ] hello. life is hell, but at least i can offer u this chapter

WOOJIN  
JAN 28th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Seungmin looks years younger when he sleeps.

It’s as though an invisible weight has been taken off of him. It loosens the set of his jaw, rounds his face. When Seungmin is asleep, he looks almost cherubic, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks and hair falling soft and shiny over his forehead. 

He looks his age. 

Woojin reaches out and smooths a thumb through the crease between his eyebrows, smiling quietly as the redhead makes a small snuffling sound. 

“You baby him too much,” Chan whispers, his presence soft and solid against Woojin’s side. “You should have made him explain.” 

It hadn’t been fun for anyone when a panicked, tipsy Seungmin had stumbled through the front door at two in the morning, and it definitely wasn’t fun to watch the younger man’s brain do a full Windows shutdown onto the couch. 

Watching Seungmin drool onto the upholstery only reinforces Woojin’s theory that Seungmin is actually a puppy- a scrappy, volatile one, but a puppy all the same. 

Woojin raises an eyebrow. “It’s late, and I think he has too many things that he needs to tell us. He wouldn’t know where to begin- we’d be up all night if he decided to talk.” 

“Maybe,” Chan allows, pulling open the curtains to stare at the darkened streets below. “We’ll get the truth out of him yet.”

The phone rings; Woojin hums and walks over to the kitchen counter. “Hello?”

It’s Hyunjin, breathless and gasping for air. “Woojin? Did he tell you?”

Woojin’s fingers tighten around the side of the phone. “Tell me what?”

There’s no response, nothing but soft, crackling static of a line gone dead. “Hyunjin?” Nothing. A foreboding sense of dread causes gooseflesh to prickle up and down his arms. 

Deja vu hits him head on. Woojin swears quietly under his breath and turns, elbowing Chan in the face.

Chan rubs his nose. “Jesus!” He jumps a little at the expression on his boyfriend’s face, his smile drooping at the corners before fading away altogether. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know,” Woojin admits, casting another glance in Seungmin’s direction. “That was Hyunjin. He seemed alarmed. I’m willing to bet that whatever happened with Seungmin has to do with him, though.”

“Okay,” Chan says. He laces his fingers through Woojin and pulls him forward until their noses brush together. “Let’s worry about that tomorrow. This is nothing we can’t handle together. It’s late- come to bed.”

He pulls Woojin into a soft, sleepy kiss with one hand and flicks off the kitchen light with the other, throwing the apartment into gentle, hazy darkness. 

[?]  
JAN 28th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

He watches the golden-yellow light disappear in the third floor window with a small thrill of anticipation. It’s almost enough to combat the chill of the wind and the numb feeling in his fingers. 

His fingers, which are ruby red and coppery. His cheek throbs; a parting gift from a special guest.

_One month_ , he thinks. _No- twenty eight days, and all of this will be over._

Humming quietly, he turns and makes his way down the empty street, the soles of his expensive dress shoes clicking and echoing on the slick pavement. 

He has work to do, but first- what was that saying, again? _Oh, yes._

_All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy indeed._

SEUNGMIN  
JAN 28th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Seungmin wakes up and is granted a few blissful, ignorant moments of half-sleep. He blinks, rubs his eyes, and is then hit by everything from yesterday- Changbin, the dinner, the texts- _I hate killing kids_ \- and sits straight up, sleepy peace sliding off his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. 

The apartment is empty; someone has draped a quilt over the back of the couch, and the smell of coffee lingers faintly in the air. 

Seungmin fumbles for his phone and checks the time: 11:30 AM. 

_Oh, fuck, I’m going to be late for work._

He checks the screen of the phone again and heaves a sigh of relief. It’s Saturday. 

There are several new text notifications, however. Two from Jeongin, one from Chan, three from Hyunjin, and one from an unknown number. Seungmin’s heart drops. 

Slowly, deliberately, he unlocks his phone. 

There’s an address and five words: _three pm today. be punctual_. 

Seungmin is filled with the slow, chilling kind of fear that precedes the knowing that something bad is going to happen. It makes his head spin, causes the short hairs on the nape of his neck to stand straight up. 

He has a few options, now. He could show the message to Chan and Woojin and see if they could try and work their underground magic on whoever is threatening him. 

Seungmin frowns and collapses back against the couch. _I don’t want that, though_. 

There’s more pressing matters that the two need to attend to- a couple of texts aren’t really enough to warrant the alarm bells that Seungmin knows Chan and Woojin will raise. 

The second option would to just go. It’s entirely possible that Seungmin could wager a deal of some sort with this person, or at the very least take them out of the equation. _Would you kill for this?_

Seungmin stares down at his bruised knuckles, peach-yellow and purple-black. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer to that. 

The third option is the police- Seungmin balks at this, shakes his head silently. _Not a chance._

If he goes to the police, he’ll have to explain everything, and risk exposing his friends and getting himself thrown in prison. 

_I’ll go_ , he decides, swallowing down the knot of fear in his throat. _For better or for worse._

He washes his face and gets dressed in dark jeans and a brown cardigan, unable to tell whether the rings under his eyes is leftover mascara or the evidence of a night of broken sleep. 

While coffee brews in the kitchen, Seungmin stares between two slim knives before deciding on the slightly smaller one. It goes underneath the armband on his right bicep, the faint bulge invisible underneath his clothing. 

At one, he eats a piece of toast and checks his phone again.

_you need to tell me what’s going on_ , Hyunjin demands. _did you tell anyone else?_

_no. just you._

Seungmin wonders if he should be telling someone else. Jeongin, maybe- he’s kept every ugly secret Seungmin’s ever told him to himself. If he doesn’t tell his friend about the threats, that’ll make two secrets Jeongin will never know. 

Conflicted, he googles the address. It’s located on the outskirts of _Gangnam_ , which is both amusing and terrifying. It’s a forty minute trip by transit, so Seungmin decides to leave a little early to scope out the area. 

There’s a neatly folded note on the kitchen counter: Seungmin unfolds it. 

_Will be back around 3:30. We need to have a talk. - W._

_Sorry_ , Seungmin thinks, folding the slip of paper back up and setting it back on the counter. _We’ll have to see about that_. 

The trains are less packed than usual. Seungmin leans his head against the glass window and watches apartments and shops whiz by in a blur of greys and whites. He wonders if today will be the day that his luck finally runs out. He wonders if Chan and Woojin will find the box under his bed if it does. 

Would they think less of him, if they knew? 

He swallows and slides his hand over to touch the faint bulge under the jacket of his right bicep. The familiar weight and length of the blade eases some of the nerves jangling around under his skin. 

People move on and off of the train, movements as steady as the ebb and flow of the tide. Seungmin watches, the vibrations from the glass window making his teeth buzz, and waits for his turn. 

The moment he steps off the train and onto the platform, his phone rings. Startled, he digs through his pockets. “Hello?”

“What the hell is going on?”

Seungmin exhales a sigh of relief. “Jeongin.”

Jeongin barks out a laugh. “Who else would it be?”

Seungmin locates the stairs exiting to the street and makes his way towards them. “I- I don’t know. What’s up?”

“What’s up,” Jeongin says slowly, “Is that I can’t find Hyunjin. Is he with you?”

Seungmin freezes. “He’s missing?”

Jeongin exhales long and slow; Seungmin knows from years of friendship that he must be chain smoking, a habit born from anxiety and repetition. 

“That’s the thing. He promised to drop something off at the bar after the dinner last night, but never showed. He won’t pick up any of my calls or texts, which leads me to believe he’s become a Scientologist or something.” 

“I- That doesn’t make sense.” Hyunjin had been with him all of last night, had made sure that Seungmin, in his shocked and drunken stupor, had given directions to the taxicab driver- but had the other man actually gotten inside the car? 

“Nope,” Jeongin says, popping his lips on the _p_. “Figured I’d ask around before trying to contact his day job.”

Seungmin blinks. “Wait- he texted me, earlier.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, really.” Seungmin pulls the phone away from his ear and pulls up his messages. “He was- he was asking if I’d made it home okay.”

“Thank fuck,” Jeongin breathes. “Guess I overreacted- or maybe not, considering how bad gang activity has been lately.”

Seungmin exits onto the street and is irritated to find that a light, drizzly kind of rain is floating down from the sky. “Hyunjin is in a gang?”

“I never said that.”

Seungmin grins. “Kinda did.”

“Well, that’s a you problem.”

The location of the address is only twelve blocks away from the train station. Seungmin sobers and pulls out his umbrella. “Jeongin- you know I love you, right?”

A pause, and then Jeongin is speaking in his _treading carefully_ voice. “Why are you saying that?”

“Just ‘cause.”

“No, I know you. You always say shit like this before you go and get yourself almost killed trying to get famous underground fighters to train you, or before agreeing to run knives for rent money.”

Seungmin laughs and merges with the sea of umbrellas on the sidewalk. “I haven’t done that last one since I started my day job, you know.”

“Well, my point still stands.” Jeongin pauses, and the silence crackles over the line. “You’re okay, right? You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“Yes,” Seungmin lies. “I would.”

When he hangs up, he feels a little hollower inside. 

The rain picks up the closer he walks, turning from a light drizzle to heavy sheets of rain. Seungmin grimaces and tucks his body closer to the handle of the umbrella. The buildings here scream money- the trash cans aren’t even bolted into the ground. 

He checks the time on his phone: 1:30. 1:30, and he’s four minutes away from maybe getting murdered. Belatedly, he thinks of cheap wax crayons and twin pigtails and does his best to ignore how the ache in his chest turns sharp and painful. 

_Remember what you’re doing this for_. He can’t let himself die. Not yet.

The address leads to a large, swank apartment complex. Seungmin ogles the large fountain despite himself, and steps inside the foyer. His wet leather shoes squeak against the marble floor, earning a dirty look from a well-manicured receptionist. 

_Sorry_ , he mouths, and makes his way towards the stairs. He’s never liked elevators much- or close, confined stairs, for that matter. 

It’s _quiet_. Are all rich people buildings this quiet? Seungmin has always prided himself on being stealthy, but his shoes squeak against the linoleum steps and his breathing is loud to even his own ears. 

The hallway is pristine, reflective, and eerily absent of human life. Seungmin feels for his blade and slowly makes his way towards apartment 9B, heartbeat loud in his ears. When he reaches out for the lion-shaped knocker on the center of the door, a lock clicks on the other side. 

Seungmin freezes, fingers suspended in midair as the door swings open. His left hand flies to his arm, searching for the handle of the blade strapped there, and-

“You look like you’re going to hurl.”

“Hng,” Seungmin manages, shock and relief blanking out his thoughts, “You- you’re you.” 

Changbin stares up at him, equal parts amused and irritated. He’s wearing grey slacks with a cream button-up shirt. There are a pair of circular black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “I hope so. Were you expecting anyone else?”

_Changbin_ had sent that text.

_I’m not going to die today_. 

Seungmin’s legs give out, crumpling like paper. Even the carpet feels expensive. It’s soft and thick; Seungmin could probably fall asleep right there if he wanted to. 

( And oh, does he want to. )

“Jesus,” Changbin says, voice both very near and very far away, “What’s wrong with you?” 

Seungmin makes an aborted sound of surprise as two warm hands slide under his biceps and pull him up off the ground. 

Changbin smells like fresh rain and cigarette smoke and cedar. Changbin wears glasses when he’s not beating people into the ground.Changbin is carrying Seungmin over his shoulder into his apartment like he’s a sack of potatoes. 

“You’re heavy,” Changbin complains, a slight whine pervading his tone. “What do you eat? Bricks?” 

Seungmin says nothing, because he is very shocked, very slightly turned on, and extremely relieved. 

Changbin kicks the door shut behind him and dumps Seungmin onto an ornately embroidered, overstuffed couch. “Explain,” he orders, and sits on the coffee table adjacent to the couch. 

Seungmin swallows, hard. He could lie. He’s good at that. _Maybe Changbin could help_. And he could- but Changbin is his client and his competition, and involving him in anything more would be unprofessional. 

“The text wasn’t signed off,” Seungmin says finally. “I thought it was coming from- someone else.” 

His fingers tighten around the blade on his arm, an action Changbin fails to miss. The shorter man narrows his eyes, reaches out to snag Seungmin’s bicep. 

“Are you fucking _bladed_? You got a text from an unknown number and you went to the address bladed up?”

Seungmin clenches his jaw and says nothing.

Changbin leans in. “ _I_ wanted to discuss the upcoming hearing for my case, among other things- just what kind of shit have _you_ gotten yourself into?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well,” Changbin muses, fingers steepled into a triangle, “I’m your client and your unofficial boss for the Gauntlet. I think I have the right to know about any unsavoury acts you have going on behind the scenes.” 

Seungmin stares at the shorter man, dumbfounded. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Changbin shrugs, eyes glinting. “I’m also a terrible gossip.” 

The laugh that chokes itself out of Seungmin’s throat catches him by surprise. “You and I both know that’s not the real reason, but nice try.” 

Changbin pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants and offers one to Seungmin, who politely declines. “Because you’re interesting, for starters.” 

Changbin draws a lighter from his jacket pocket and gracefully sparks up the cigarette. He takes a long pull. 

“You’re what- twenty-one, twenty--two?- but you move like you’re somebody who’s seen too much and lived far longer than they thought they would. You fight like you have a goal. You keep all your friends at an arm's length.” 

An unspoken sentence hangs in the air: _you remind me of me._

Seungmin watches the ebb and flow of smoke pass through the shorter man’s lips. The smell is comforting, somehow, in its unfamiliarity. “If I told people everything about myself just because they thought I was interesting, I’d be long dead.” 

“Ah,” Changbin drawls, smoke pouring from his nose in twin plumes, “But I’m not asking for _everything_. Just this. Just an honest explanation for why you’re bladed and as white as a sheet on my very nice couch.” 

Seungmin stares at him uncomprehendingly. This has to be some kind of fever dream, because there’s no way that Seo Changbin should be asking him the time of day, let alone any chapter of his life story. 

_There must be something he wants_. Everyone wants something. Nothing is for free. That’s something Seungmin learned long before Jeongin said so, on the first night they met in October. Seungmin can still see the dimly lit, grimy alleyway when he closes his eyes. 

( When it comes to these sort of things, Seungmin has found that Jeongin is almost always right. )

So that’s why Seungmin uncrosses his arms, leans forward, and says very seriously, “So do you want to kill me, or fuck me?” 

The cigarette falls from Changbin’s lips onto the coffee table, where it smolders and glows at the end, a miniature fire wrapped in chemicals and wax paper. 

_This is the first time I’ve ever seen him blush_ , Seungmin thinks. 

Changbin stares at him, eyes round and cheeks warm. “Excuse me?” 

Seungmin picks up Changbin’s discarded cigarette and takes a long, slow drag. He’s never liked the taste of the stuff, but it’s not as though he _hates_ it. 

“Everybody,” he replies slowly, “wants something from someone else. There’s not much altruism on this planet- and none in the world we live in, so what is it that you want from me? You clearly don’t need money or power, so you must either hate me or want me. Or both.” 

Changbin grins, ears faintly pink. “My, aren’t you full of yourself.” 

Seungmin narrows his eyes and blows a stream of smoke into his face. Changbin wrinkles his nose and snatches the cigarette back, his fingers warm and rough where they touch Seungmin’s. 

“Maybe,” Changbin says finally, “I’m tired of being on top. Maybe I want to go back to my family. Maybe I don’t want to sleep with a gun under my pillow every night.” 

He stubs the cigarette out on the glass of the coffee table, leaving a long smear of ash on the otherwise pristine surface. “Maybe I want a successor who I can trust.”

Seungmin reels back, shocked. “You want _me_ to take your place?”

Changbin shrugs. “Why not?” 

“I’m not- I’m nowhere near as good as you.” 

“You could be,” Changbin replies. He stands up and dusts off his slacks. “You could be better, I think, if I trained you right. Tea?” 

“Please,” Seungmin manages, not quite sure which part of that sentence he’s replying to. “I- this isn’t a joke, is it? I’ve had enough surprises this week as is.” 

“I’m dead serious,” Changbin calls from what Seungmin assumes is the kitchen, “And I’ve decided that you’re probably the most trustworthy person for the job.” 

“I hope it’s not because I’m a lawyer,” Seungmin mutters. “They’re untrustworthy by trade.” He’s rewarded with a short laugh from the shorter man. 

“No. I’ve been watching you for a while, now. You’re a good fighter, and a good person- as good as you can be living this kind of lifestyle, anyways.” 

“How long is a while?” 

Changbin emerges from the kitchen, two ( expensive ) blue mugs held carefully in his hands. “A couple months.” 

Seungmin fumbles his mug and nearly spills the hot liquid all over the white shag carpet. “ _Months_?” 

“I do my research,” Changbin replies primly, nose upturned. “It’s not like I was sitting outside your house in a white van or anything. Just watching your matches, monitoring your day job.” 

“That’s kind of weird.” 

“I’m being _honest_.”  
Seungmin takes a sip of his tea. It’s just on the wrong side of too hot, but it’s rich and creamy and tastes like blackberries and rose. “Still weird.” 

“Weird enough to turn down my offer?” 

Seungmin hesitates. “...No.” 

Clearly Changbin isn’t being honest about this; he’s sprung this whole thing on Seungmin entirely too fast for Seungmin’s liking. If Changbin wants to play out all his cards like this, wants to throw them down on the table for Seungmin to read- that’s fine. 

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_. Changbin isn’t an enemy, really, but it’s still applicable. 

Changbin visibly relaxes, fingers loosening around his mug of tea. “Good. Now tell me what you thought you’d find when you came here.” 

Seungmin gnaws on the inside of his cheek, head still spinning from the revelation that Changbin wants him to take his place at the head of the underground table, that Changbin had been _watching_ him, which is seriously creepy, actually-

“I think- no- I know that somebody is trying to kill me. Has promised to, anyway.” 

Changbin blinks, shifts in his seat. “Seriously?” 

Seungmin flushes. “I- yes? What were you expecting?” 

“Not for somebody to willingly go to their death,” Changbin mutters. “Let me get this straight- you got a text from an unknown number, thought it was the person trying to kill you, and took public transit to that address, armed with only a knife?” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

“Stupid,” Changbin chides, and takes a sip of tea. “Stupid and careless. Self-preservation is an important skill to have. We'll work on that.” 

Seungmin stares at him, moon-eyed. “We will?” 

Changbin bites back a little smile. “Yeah. We’re going to go to your place first, though.” 

“Er, why?” 

Changbin stands and stretches, his shirt riding up to show a sliver of tanned, taut skin. “Because whoever is trying to murder you has probably bugged the shit out of your apartment. Did they text you- yes? they did? - then I want to see if we can trace the number back to an address.” 

He’s sure that Changbin is saying something important, probably, but he’s twenty-two and Changbin is attractive and also toned. The shirt rides up a little more- enough for him to see ink on Changbin’s hipbone- Seungmin swallows and looks away, to the pictures on the walls. 

Most of them feature a young boy, a woman and a man- the former is clearly Changbin. He doesn’t look happy. 

“Okay,” Seungmin says hesitantly, even though he trusts Changbin about as far as he can throw him. “Let’s go.” 

And they do. 

If Seungmin thinks about Changbin’s inked hip the whole way there- well, that’s his business, and can be easily chalked up to stress.

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

( “Why did you trust me enough to give me your address?”

“You know the saying, ‘don’t keep all your eggs in one basket’?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Imagine that the eggs are houses.”

“How rich _are_ you?” )

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

SEUNGMIN  
JAN 28th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Don’t freak out,” Seungmin says as soon as Woojin opens the front door, thunderclouds already rolling across his face, “I can explain- _unfh_ -,” 

“Stupid,” Woojin mutters, crushing Seungmin’s face into his chest, “You can’t just disappear without telling anyone. You’ll make people think that you’re-,” 

From inside the house there’s the sound of thumping, and then running, and then Chan’s crashing into Woojin, sending all three of them flying off the porch and onto the sidewalk in a heap of tangled limbs and halfhearted upset. 

“ _Chaaan_ ,” Seungmin complains. The blonde growls under his breath and squishes Seungmin’s cheeks together with the flat of his palms.

“Kim Seungmin, I am going to murder you- we told you to stay put until we got back from work, and what did you do? You left. You had one job, kid. One. Job.” 

“One job,” Woojin echoes, voice sharp and eyes relieved, and Seungmin is hit with a sudden rush of guilt.

“I find this as entertaining as the next guy,” Changbin says, and the three of them freeze, “But I’d really like to move this inside before someone calls the cops.” 

Chan blinks up at him, mouth agape. “Hey, you’re-,” 

“Yep.” 

“Why the fuck are you-,” 

Changbin sounds very weary. “I will _explain_.” 

“He’ll explain,” Seungmin echoes. 

Woojin eyes Changbin with suspicion before pulling himself off of the ground. “Well, then. Come in.” 

There’s a thinly veiled threat somewhere in there that nobody misses. Changbin peers around the apartment with interest, eyes skimming across Woojin’s stacks of history books and Chan’s spare guitar parts. “This place actually looks lived in.” 

Seungmin snorts. “Not all of us have as many eggs as you do.” 

Chan throws himself onto the couch, lips pursed. “I love a good innuendo, but would somebody like to explain why we have S-,”

Changbin shushes him, earning a glare from Woojin. 

“Do you not have any manners, or-,”

This time, it’s Seungmin who hold a finger up to his lips and shakes his head. _Bugs_ , he mouths silently, and Chan freezes, fingers digging into the arms of the sofa. 

Woojin looks back and forth between them like a lost dog. “What are you saying? Thugs?” 

Chan rolls his eyes in mock exasperation and chucks a couch pillow at his boyfriend’s head. “Just. _Shhh_.” 

Seungmin watches as Changbin ambles around the small living room and reaches under tables and windowsills. 

( “Oh,” Woojin says finally, comprehension dawning on his face. “I see.” Chan snickers and pats his thigh fondly. ) 

Changbin unscrews the lightbulbs and inspects the sockets carefully before putting them back in. There’s a loose tension in the set of his shoulders that simultaneously puts Seungmin at ease and on edge. 

And for good reason, because they find the first bug in the smoke detector. 

Changbin holds it up triumphantly. “I always get bugged here, too.”

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Woojin says, raking his fingers through his dark, cropped hair. “How long has that been there?”

Changbin shrugs, holding the now-cracked device up to the light. It’s circular, pea-sized and crudely built; a small red light flickers in and out from the centre. “Your guess is better than mine. I’d suggest changing your locks- getting a new security system, maybe.”

“They’ve been in the house,” Seungmin says quietly, something tightening in his gut. “They’ve probably been through our stuff.”

Seungmin swallows convulsively and takes two steps back. “I’m going to go check my room. I’ll be right back.” 

Changbin looks at him funny. “This was probably planted weeks ago. I don’t think any trace of whoever broke in will still be visi-,” 

Seungmin spins on his heel and takes the stairs three at a time. 

Chan and Woojin exchange a long look. Changbin sighs, rolls his shoulders, and drops the bug onto the kitchen counter. He leans back, eyes warm. 

“Long time no see, Kim Woojin.” 

Woojin’s mouth twists into a faint smile. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Seungmin bursts into his room. How long had it been since he’d last looked at the photos under his bed? The letters? There were _addresses_ on those packages; if they’re gone- 

He shakes his head. _They won’t be. They can’t be_. 

He drops to his knees and parts the dusty undersheets. 

The box waits for him, dusty and menacingly green. Seungmin exhales long and hard.

_Still there._

Fingers wobbling, he pulls it out and takes off the top. Everything is as he left it: photos stacked by date and age, letters tucked underneath the polaroids. 

Except. 

His hand freezes. The photos are out of order. 1 is on top of 3, with 2 sandwiched in between-and 4 is nowhere to be found. 

_4 is gone._

Panic surges so quickly, so abruptly over Seungmin that it’s like he’s underwater, being pulled along by a rip current, head over heels and unable to breathe. 

This is bad. It’s really, really bad. Seungmin presses a hand over his eyes and leans back against the frame of his bed. 

If they have the picture- the _address_ \- Seungmin is as good as dead, because this is blackmail that would absolutely work. This is-

_( “You can’t stay,” she says, voice chilly, “because you’re_ unfit.” )

It’s- 

_( He’s eighteen and scared and alone, now, with a chip on his shoulder and in his heart- )_

“Seungmin?” 

Seungmin lets his hand fall from his face. Woojin hesitates in the doorway before stepping over and bending down until he’s eye level with Seungmin. When he pulls Seungmin in for a hug, it’s soothing and so familiar that it makes Seungmin’s eyes prick with unshed tears. 

“You know,” Woojin murmurs, tucking Seungmin’s face into the crook of his neck, “You’re going to have to tell us about whatever is eating you up inside eventually. It’s not good to carry so much by yourself.” 

Seungmin nods soundlessly and tightens his hold around Woojin, eliciting an exasperated huff from the older man. 

“Wow. You really are just like a big baby. A man-child.” 

“Shut up,” Seungmin growls, but there’s no real anger in his voice. “I’ll tell you guys everything- just- not all at once. There’s some things that I haven’t even really- I haven’t even talked about them to myself yet.” 

“Okay,” Woojin says, and it sounds like he _gets_ it. “Is there anything missing from your room?” 

Seungmin leans back and smiles up at him, his face showing none of the terror that writhes in his chest. “No.”

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

He does end up explaining the threats and texts- tells them about the poisoned drink, shows Changbin and Chan the messages on his phone. 

They waste no time in bringing in one of Chan and Woojin’s _associates_ \- a lanky, blue haired guy with steely eyes and a laptop that’s almost as big as he is. 

“This is Jisung,” Woojin announces, ushering the guy in. “He’s our tech guy. If anyone can trace those messages back to the source, it’ll be him.”

“Yo,” Jisung says easily, chomping on a wad of bright pink bubblegum, “How’s it going?”

Seungmin blinks over at him. “Er, fine?” 

Jisung snorts and holds his hand out, palm upwards. Rings adorn his fingers; chunky bracelets cover his arm almost all the way up to his elbow. “Clearly. Got the phone?” 

Taken aback, Seungmin fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over to him. Jisung sends him a disarmingly cheerful smile as he plugs an assortment of wires hanging out of his computer into it. 

“I can’t really tell you how long this is gonna take- it depends on the level of encryptions and firewalls that your friend has on the other end.” 

Seungmin leans over Jisung’s shoulder to peer at the computer screen. It’s line after line of blinking green code- incomprehensible to Seungmin’s eyes, maybe, but it means _something_. “Do you have a rough estimate, or…?”

Jisung waggles his fingers and very seriously says, “Don’t rush the magic.”

Seungmin laughs despite himself; Chan rolls his eyes. 

“Is he actually reliable?” Changbin asks, sounding mildly irritated. Woojin raises an eyebrow and shrugs. 

“He’s the best I’ve ever seen- and we’ve never had any problems with him, so long as we cater to his requirements.” 

“And what are those?” 

Woojin ticks them off on his fingers. “Payment in cash, good weed, and free passes to Lotte World.” 

Changbin stares at the blue haired man a little helplessly. Jisung grins toothily at him and blows another large, pink bubble. “I see.” 

It’s not as exciting as all the espionage movies make it out to be: over the next couple hours, Jisung swears, types, makes Woojin get him a happy meal, swears again, and finally leans back in his chair.

“This one is going to take me a few days.” He looks up at Seungmin, half finished burger in one hand. “Can I take the phone back to the lab with me?” 

Seungmin looks over at Woojin and Chan, who both nod. “Sure,” he says. “Just don’t reply to any texts I get.” He has his old work phone that he can use in the meantime. 

“No promises!” Jisung chirps, and with that he’s gone, computer bags slung over his chest like he’s carrying around a baby. 

“He has a lot of personality,” Seungmin says into the silent room. The faint smell of bubblegum and processed sugar lingers in the air.

Chan nods. “That’s one word for it.” 

Woojin clears his throat. “On a side note: Seungmin, you’re grounded for the next three weeks.” 

Seungmin whirls around, eyes wide. “I’m _twenty-two_!” 

“I need an Advil,” Changbin says flatly, and walks over to one of the cabinets in the kitchen, fully aware that nobody is listening to him. 

SEUNGMIN  
JAN 30th, 2021. SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

A small flock of pigeons scatter as Seungmin skids around the corner, eyes wide and briefcase in hand.  
_Late again_.

There’s no time for even a granola bar or Starbucks stop this morning, because being late is significantly more alarming than it was last time. 

Today, he’s meeting with the defense- Lee Jaehwa’s lawyers.

He doesn’t know why she’s even bothering to assemble an argument: all of her extortion attempts have been laid out in the open for the whole world to see. Like their client, her lawyers regard rule and law as an obstacle to hurdle. Dealing with them won’t be easy, but at least Seungmin has Mrs. Juk and Felix to back him up. 

“You’re _so_ late,” Jisoo calls as he speed walks past the receptionist’s desk. “She’s going to murder you.” 

“Good thing I passed the bar exam. I know my rights,” Seungmin quips over his shoulder, brushing snow off of his shoulders and out of his hair. He stops just outside of the conference room’s door, taking a moment to compose himself. 

_You can do this._

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door. Several unfamiliar pairs of eyes swing his way. 

“- and this is Kim Seungmin, one of my lead attorneys on this case.” Mrs Juk finishes, a clear question in her eyes. 

“Apologies for being late,” Seungmin says smoothly, sliding into the open seat between Felix and Mrs. Juk, “Traffic was particularly unforgiving today.” 

A tall, thin man with a well groomed mustache nods. “It happens to the best of us.” He holds out his hand, and Seungmin shakes it. “Choi Seunghoon, lead defense. I’ve heard good things about you.” 

“And I you,’ Seungmin replies, surprised. He actually has heard good things about Choi Seunghoon- the man has a reputation of adhering strictly to the law. 

_Interesting that he’s Lee Jaehwa’s first choice_. 

Perhaps the man has more dirt stuck under his nails than Seungmin has previously thought. 

Mrs. Juk opens her laptop and peers down at the men and women assembled at the table. “Well, then. Let’s get started.” 

It’s not as tense as Seungmin expects. The defense lawyers are polite and courteous, and any disagreements on how to proceed on certain parts of the hearing are, for the most part, stress free. 

It sort of feels like everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Felix nudges Seungmin’s foot with his own. “Why were you really late?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seungmin deadpans, flipping over a page in his notebook idly. “The snow is picking up, and the streets aren’t salted. It’s ugly out there.” 

Felix smiles at him angelically and whispers, “Your _mom_ is ugly out there,” which prompts a quiet but violent round of footsies underneath the table. 

“Once we get out of here,” Seungmin promises, lowering his voice so that the defense attorneys don’t hear him, “I’m going to bury you alive in the snowdrift by the back entrance.” 

Felix snorts. “You can _try_ , tiny man.” 

Seungmin pins him with an incredulous stare. “I’m taller than you.” 

The blonde shrugs and deftly flips a pen between his fingers. “Only physically- but mentally and emotionally? I’m much taller.” 

Seungmin grins. “You bullshit so easily that I’m almost inclined to believe you.” 

Mrs. Juk clears her throat and walks over to Seungmin, bending down until her lips are level to his ear. “Can we talk in my office?” 

“Sure,” Seungmin says, a little taken aback by the arranged neutrality on her face. He follows her outside. Instead of talking right there, she unlocks the exterior door to her office and ushers him inside. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“You tell me,” she says, voice cool, and gestures to the two people standing by her desk. 

Seungmin’s brain shorts out, because those are _cops_ in full uniform, blue and black and sleek even under the fluorescent office lights. 

Mrs. Juk raises her voice. “Officers.” 

_Oh god_. They’ve caught him- but for what? The fighting? Running weapons? Driving without a permit? Getting overly involved with his own client? The list goes on and on; it could be _anything_. 

Seungmin digs his fingers into his own palms so hard that the skin breaks and straightens his spine. 

The first officer- a thin, tall man- turns to him, hand resting on his hip. “Kim Seungmin?” 

Seungmin nods, throat suddenly very dry. 

Tall Boy turns to look at his partner. She steps forward, eyes sympathetic but firm. “We’re going to need you to come down to the station, please.” 

“Why?” Seungmin croaks. “Have I done something wrong?”

_Which crime did you catch me for_? 

“No, nothing like that,” the Tall Boy says, waving a hand dismissively. “We’d like you to come down and identify a body for us.” 

Any relief Seungmin may have felt dissipates almost immediately; the bottom of his stomach drops out like he’s on a rollercoaster. 

“ _What_?” 

The female officer checks her notepad. “Does the name Hwang Hyunjin mean anything to you?” 

Seungmin’s knees nearly give out. 

 

HYUNJIN  
?? ??th, ????. ????, SOUTH KOREA.

His wrists hurt. Everything hurts, actually, but it’s his wrists that ache the most, the cool metal of the cuffs digging into the tender skin around his carpal bones.

Hyunjin rolls his shoulders ( ouch ) and licks his lips (cracked, dry ). He can feel dried blood on his chin and philtrum- his nose is either bruised or broken. 

_What happened?_ Hyunjin pushes past the pain and heavy layer of fog inside his head. He’d- he’d been helping Seungmin into a cab, last night- it was last night, wasn’t it? 

_( Seungmin is heavier than he looks; the weight of him burns dully at Hyunjin’s biceps. He hesitates at the first cab he sees- it’s empty- opting to push Seungmin into one with a young girl and a man instead. He recognizes them, vaguely._

_“Get home safe,” he tells Seungmin, concern warring with the buzz from the alcohol. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow, okay?”_

_Seungmin makes a faint but assenting sound. Hyunjin watches the cab peel away from the curb and into the blurry pre-dawn city with an odd sense of relief. Covering a yawn behind his hand, he makes his way over to the empty cab and slides in._

_“Sorry about that,” he says to the driver, tongue loose from the booze, “My friend really can’t be trusted by himself right now.”_

_The driver’s eyes crinkle up into a smile in the rearview mirror. “It happens to the best of us. Where to?”_

_Hyunjin gives the driver his address and settles back into the surprisingly soft seat, staring out the window at the cityscape, watching it blur by in a mass of soft greys and blues._

_This early, there’s not many people or cars on the road: it’s almost peaceful, which is strange. Seoul is never peaceful, never sleeping._

_It takes him fifteen minutes to figure out that something is not right._

_“Hey,” he says cautiously. “My place is in the other direction.”_

_“Shortcut,” the driver replies smoothly, and turns the wheel, taking them out of the city and into a more sparsely populated area. Hyunjin watches the apartments turn into houses turn into grass with half-lidded eyes. There’s a muffled thumping from behind and under him: the roads here are bumpy._

_He knows something isn’t right, but he’s drunk and feeling off and the driver is nice-_

_No._

_His fingers surreptitiously creep towards the door handle. If the driver wants to be shady, he’ll just get out, even if the car is still moving. Hyunjin flicks his eyes over to the driver, who hums a little ditty under his breath._

_His palms, slick with sweat, slip against the plastic handle once, twice- and then Hyunjin unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes himself out of the car in one swift, fluid movement. There’s a quick feeling of suspension, of weightlessness- and then he’s falling, rolling and hitting the ground._

_He lands, his shoulder taking the worst of it, and lies there for a moment, desperately trying to get his breath back._

_Several meters ahead, the car screeches to a stop. Hyunjin lifts his heavy heavy head to look at it. It starts reversing towards him._

_And Hyunjin does what he does best: he picks himself up and runs._

_And then there’s light, and noise, and he’s flying again- )_

Hyunjin hisses and opens his eyes. Anger simmers under his skin, almost as strong as his fear. 

_Fucker hit me with his_ car. 

If he gets out of this, he’s never drinking again. Shaking his head, he moves his head around and assesses his environment. 

There’s not much to see in this faint half light- and what he can see isn’t of much help to him, anyways. It’s a completely bare room, the windows boarded and the light fixtures empty. It’s not _dirty,_ however- in fact, it’s pristine. The tan carpets are spotless, and the paint on the walls gleams. 

Footsteps approach the closed door, quiet-but not quiet enough for Hyunjin, who spent most of his childhood creeping around his house, avoiding squeaky floorboards and rusty door hinges. 

He closes his eyes and feigns sleep, head lolling back against the wooden chair he’s been cuffed to. 

The click of a lock. The soft rasp of the wooden door skimming across the carpet. Humming, light and soft- and then a _hand_ , touching his face lightly, turning it this way and that. Hyunjin forces himself to stay lax despite the nausea rising in his chest. 

“What a mess you’ve made,” the voice intones, the sound of it a rush of freezing water over Hyunjin’s body, “And a shame, too. You’re so pretty.” 

He _knows_ this voice. He’s heard it before- but _where_ , who- 

A tinge of amusement colours the stranger’s voice. “Don’t bother playing dead. The possum look doesn’t suit you, so open your eyes and talk to me.” 

“No,” Hyunjin manages, eyes squeezed shut. “Not happening.” 

“And why is that?” 

Hyunjin coughs once, twice, his breath rattling in his chest. “I know what happens when you look at your abductor’s face. It means that you’re as good as dead.” 

That hand again, fiddling with a bit of his hair. “You’re a clever one. That makes things much more fun.”

Hyunjin twists his wrists around, searching for a position that might let him slides a hand out. “What do you want? I haven’t done anything!” 

“There always has to be someone caught in the crossfire,” the voice says sympathetically. “A bystander- an innocent- well, you’re not exactly _innocent_ , are you- onlooker who stepped in at the wrong place, at the wrong time. If it makes you feel better, none of this has to do with you. It’s beyond you, really, but I was bored and needed- well. You’ll see.” 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

Laughter, high and clear, and the sound of a gun’s safety mechanism being flipped back on. “I was going to, had you opened your eyes. But I like you, Hwang Hyunjin, and if there’s one thing I love more than a job well done, it’s a nice game of cat and mouse.” 

“I-,” Hyunjin starts, but the door slams shut and the room is empty again, save for himself. 

Exhaling shakily, he pushes back the visceral terror threatening to break his composure and twists his wrists again. There’s a little bit of room in the cuff holding his left hand, but his thumbs get in the way. 

Hyunjin bites down on his lip and scans the room. Maybe, if he can get the boards off the windows, he can get out or use them to surprise whoever the hell that person is when they come back again. 

For that, though, he needs to be out of these cuffs, and for _that_ \- 

_How badly do you want to get out of here alive?_ Hyunjin looks down at his thumbs again and swallows, hard. _Bad enough._

_Bad enough._

━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━

??  
??th, ????. ????, SOUTH KOREA.

”Oh,” he says, wincing sympathetically, “That looks like it hurt.” 

He picks up the gun and flicks off the safety. “Maybe if you had been smarter,” he informs Hwang Hyunjin, “I wouldn’t have to come back and do this.” 

_How careless._

But this is his job, and there are rules that even he has to follow. _No loose ends._

Afterwards, that same old tune springs to mind, and he sings it softly under his breath as he pushes his chair away from the grainy video feed and makes his way outside, snapping his umbrella open to keep his shoulders and head free of the snow that is now lightly falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case ur amazing detective skills are off today: this fic is gonna be quite a bit longer than 4 chapters..... wahey! lemme know what u think!
> 
>  
> 
> [ twt ](https://twitter.com/seungbiin)  
> [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/inbox)


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